


Thrust Upon Us

by jsymo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belly Rubs, Bottom Dean, Cambion, Dean Hates Witches, First Kiss, First Time, Infanticide, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mpreg, Protective Dean, Protective Sam Winchester, Provocative Baby Bumps, Sibling Incest, Top Sam, first time fic, incubus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:07:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3075086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jsymo/pseuds/jsymo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hates witches. Still hates them, even though this wasn't actually the work of a witch. When Dean's health takes a dive after ganking that supposed witch the brothers are forced to turn to the sage Bobby Singer for shelter and answers. They realize that they have inadvertently been sucked into the plan B after Yellow Eyes' Psychic kids don't work out. Lucky for them they can depend on the hunting community for help... right?</p><p>Season two Canon divergence -- assumes Sam never died, Dean never sold his soul, and John is still around and kickin'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What's With Those Winchesters?

Dean was breathing heavily; back pressed flush up against one of the wooden supports of the shipping warehouse they had tracked the witch to. He leaned forward slightly and turned his head; he was able to see the knife that he had dropped when the witch had forced himself and Sam backward, like a bubble of a force field that threw the two of them twenty feet through the air. Dean had curled up in the air so that his right shoulder and upper back had taken the brunt of the fall, but the back of his skull had cracked hard against the concrete as his body bounced a second time.  
He hadn’t seen where Sam had fallen, didn’t know if he was okay either. He also didn’t know where the witch was, but he was damned if he was going to just sit there and wait for the witch to make the first move. Scanning behind his hiding spot once again making sure that he was clear Dean stood up shakily and ran for the glinting knife that he had dropped.  
Jogging past Dean scooped up the object, and ran to the safety which was the various shipping material and boxes around the edge of the warehouse walls. He wasn’t going to stand dead center under the gleaming industrial lights, a beacon to the witch who was still inevitably walking around.  
When he was safely in the shadows again Dean dropped down squatting low to the floor, eyes scanning in a continuous wave before him as he eased his way between wooden crates and 50 gallon drums – searching for either Sam or the witch.  
A few moments passed before he heard a light fast-paced whistling sound. He peered around a wooden crate draped in a tarp and saw Sam, laying sprawled out, he had landed on some of the shipping materials, his head hanging off of the side and his hair drooped onto the floor.  
Dean pursed his lips and looked around. “Sam?” he whispered, hoping to rouse his brother. “Sammy?” he pleaded urgently.  
Sam merely lay over the boxes, his lungs pulling in the air causing a slight whistle to come from between his lips.  
He shook his head and his green eyes flickered around the warehouse, “shit,” he swore, preparing himself to move closer to Sam.  
Just as the muscles in his thighs worked to move him forward he heard footsteps. Fast and determined. The hard click click click of the shoes that the witch had been wearing.  
Instead he ducked down further and watched as he appeared in view. The man wore a business suit and fresh glass-black dress shoes. Dean watched as the witch looked down, unbuttoning his jacket, before lowering himself to the ground, his left knee coming down right next to Sam’s face.  
The man extended his arm and placed it on Sam’s abdomen, just under where Dean imagined his bellybutton would be, and lowered his head.  
Dean heard the mutterings of a few words, and that was enough for him. He stood up, creeping from his hiding spot, knife wielded in his right hand.  
He got right up behind the witch, arm and knife raised into the air, prepared to slice down and behead yet another creature – adding another tally to the total – when the man turned around suddenly. Dean stared down into all white eyes, as the witch smiled and laid his hand directly on Dean’s stomach, standing directly above him.  
The witch’s hand caused a deep burning, and pinching sensation. Actually, if Dean had to be honest the pain he felt was more psychological, he was expecting some sort of pain, and instead what he felt was the slight discomfort he would equate to a gas bubble after eating too many tacos.  
Dean huffed out a breath, “that’s cute” he murmured, pulling his lips into a queer smirk before bringing down his hand, knife with it, and sliced cleanly through the tendons, muscles and flesh of the witch’s neck. As always with the motion Dean’s stomach clenched the moment the blade pulled through the spinal column, Dean wouldn’t admit it, but with each decapitation his stomach churned at the feeling of the sharp knife grinding against the vertebrae kicking up friction at his actions.  
With the quick motion of bringing his arm down it was over. Dean watched as the witch’s head rolled away from its body by a few feet, and the witch flopped over. He placed his left hand over his lower abdomen, replacing where the witch’s hand had been merely seconds before.  
“Damn,” he blew a sigh of relief through his lips and allowed his head to drop for a moment. “Buddy,” Dean said looking at the headless body now laying in an expanding pool of dark black-red blood, “I don’t want to know what you were trying to do there.”  
He pocketed the knife and made his way over to Sam, who was now moaning slightly, waking up from his fall. “C’mon Sammy,” Dean grunted, lifting his younger, yet larger, brother up by his shoulders and holding him so Sam could find his footing and kick his way off of the shipping equipment.  
Dean helped lower Sam to the ground, leaned up against a 50 gallon drum, and watched as he reached up and rubbed his face, allowing his head to rotate around before he opened his eyes fully and looked at Dean, hand dropping from his face.  
“Whad happen’d,” he croaked, eyeing the witch’s body.  
Sam watched as his older brother glanced over his shoulder, following his gaze. His eyebrows lifted up in a shrug, as Dean opened his lips, sucking in some air before his overly-Dean explanation.  
“Saved your ass Sammy,” Dean looked back to him and smiled, his eyebrows twitching up a second time.  
Sam rolled his eyes, “is that all?”  
“No,” Dean sighed, standing up and offering him his hand, “he was trying something. Placed his hand on you, muttered some things, and right before I ganked him,” Dean shook his head.  
“What,” Sam, swayed on his feet, making note of Dean’s pause.  
His brother looked at him confused, “he – I dunno, turned around and placed his hand on me.” Dean shrugged.  
“And?” Sam pushed him.  
“And,” Dean shrugged again. “I got nothing Sammy,” Dean smiled sarcastically. “Just put his hand on me.”  
“Where.”  
“My stomach.”  
“Did he hurt you?”  
“No,” Dean laughed incredulously, “that’s the weird thing, he put his hand on your stomach,” Dean replaying the motion with his own hands in front of him, “said some things, turned around and put his hand on mine. I mean, there was some discomfort yeah, but nothing bad.”  
Sam’s face pulled down into his classic look of well alright then, and he changed the subject. “Knife worked then,” he eyed the object Dean was still holding onto.  
Dean looked down, almost forgetting the bloodied knife in his grasp. “Yeah,” he bent down and pulled the handkerchief from the witch’s front pocket and wiped the blood off before stowing the knife inside of his own jacket. “Have to thank Bobby for that one.”  
The two brothers turned and started walking out of the warehouse to the Impala that waited a few blocks away.  
Sam grabbed Dean’s arm and spun him toward him quickly, “Dude,” he rushed out, looking side to side though they were completely alone. “I gotta ask,” Sam’s cheeks flushed with what he was about to say. “You know that feeling you get after you…. ya know,” his eyes pleaded that Dean knew what he was hinting to and that he wouldn’t be forced into saying it.  
“No.”  
Sam’s lips pulled into a straight hesitant line and his eyebrows drew together in worry as he looked away before forcing the words out, “after you have sex, or ya know,” Sam’s hands rolled through the air in front of him, conveying his point.  
“Oh,” Dean smiled, “yeah,” he unconsciously parted his lips and let his tongue slip out over his bottom lip.  
“I’m trying to be serious here Dean,” Sam huffed out.  
The temporary lusty day dream drained away from Dean’s eyes. “So what were you saying Sammy?”  
Sam rolled his eyes, “that feeling you get.”  
“What about it?”  
“Are you? Do you?” he reached up and ran a hand through his hair before looking Dean dead in the eye, “do you feel like you just kind of, did it?”Sam questioned in a whisper and yet with all of the seriousness he could muster.  
Dean pulled his lips together thinking, “no can’t say I do,” he turned Sam with him and started walking toward the car. “Why? The sight of ganked monsters starting to be a thing for you?”  
“Dean,” Sam sighed.  
“Hey, I gotta ask. If you’re going to start getting weird urges every time we kill a son-of-a-bitch I need to know so I can leave you alone for a few minutes,” Dean teased.  
“Forget I ever said anything,” Sam growled throwing his arms up.  
They walked to the Impala in silence, but Dean’s head was whirring, Dean knew exactly what Sam had been talking about. That strange satisfied, wholeness that Dean had always associated with sex or jerking off, he felt it too. It was uncomfortable, strange, and he didn’t even want to admit it to himself, let along say it out loud to Sam.  
If they were going to start getting a – a fixation for what they did, well then damnit it would happen in silence. God knows they were already strange enough.  
******  
Once the two brothers had slid into the front bench seat of the Impala they stared out the windshield in silence. Dean apprehensively looked at his brother. Legs spread wide on his half of the seat, shoulder slumped against the window and fingers of his right hand slowly stroking his stubbled chin in thought.  
Dean nibbled on his lower lip, trying to decipher what he should do. The hell with it. He thought before reaching out a shaking hand and clamping it down on his little brother’s upper thigh.  
Sam Immediately jerked at the heavy and warm weight on his leg, his shoulder going rigid against the window, and his arm dropping from his face.  
They stayed that way for a few awkward moments. Sam looking forward. Dean looking at Sam.  
Soon Dean’s fingers felt cold, as if the blood pulling from his hand were trying to pull the appendage with it. Dean lifted his hand from Sam’s thigh slowly, before allowing it to retreat to his own lap.  
Dean dropped his head to the steering wheel and sighed as Sam cleared his throat.  
-“I think”  
-“Does this feel”  
The two spoke at the same time, and Dean lifted his head, giving a shy smile as permission for Sam to continue.  
Sam nodded his head, “Does this feel?” he paused again, shaking his head trying to search for the right word, “different?”  
“Well yeah Sam, the desire to grope my little brother does feel a little different,” Dean snapped using his angry words to hide his embarrassment.  
Unfortunately for Dean, Sam knew him too well for that to work.  
“Dean, I know you know what I’m talking about.”  
Dean licked his lips and looked out of the driver side window as he scrubbed his face with his hand. He did know what Sam was talking about.  
About two weeks ago they arrived in Salt Lake City to check out a case, young married couples were going missing from their locked and secure bedrooms at night, no signs of any break-ins or anything suggesting that a human had been the reason behind the disappearances.  
It was about 1AM when they had made it into the city limits and they made it to the first motel with a vacancy sign. Even though it had been late they hadn’t stopped for two days, opting to switch driving schedules to make it to the case quicker. And so while Dean had plopped himself down on the bed, shucking his jeans and laying on his back in nothing but his boxers and a wash worn black t-shirt, Sam had excused himself for a shower.  
Dean was merely staring up at the ceiling, he’d already got his four hours of sleep in for the day so he wasn’t necessarily tired, and he was looking at the tiles on the ceiling – finding patterns in the cracks – what he’s always done to lull himself to sleep in these cheap motels, ever since he was a kid; when Sam walked out.  
He had forgotten to grab his boxers and pajamas before his shower and so he was ineffectively wrapped in one of the scratchy motel towels as he sifted through his duffle. Dean watched as the still warm droplets carved a path down Sam’s back, collecting in the dimples above his hips, before going even lower, to the regions the towel left unexposed.  
Sam turned around and Dean was able to watch the same effect happening on Sam’s chest, this time he watched as his sopping wet hair dripped onto his chest, water landing a few inches above one of Sam’s nipples, which was hardened now that it was exposed to the cold air of the motel room. And he again watched earnestly as the water drew a line down Sam’s stomach and chest. Making a painstakingly slow descent to the curve of muscle that V-ed down to Sam’s….  
Dean’s eyes shot up to Sam’s face as he realized he had been blatantly checking out his brother. Sam had paused in what he was doing, hands full of clothing as he stared back at Dean.  
But instead of finding a look of horror on Sam’s face he watched as Sam’s eyes slowly dragged their way down Dean’s body, coming to rest on the tight boxer-hybrid’s that Dean favored.  
Uncomfortable at the unexpected scrutiny, Dean couldn’t help it as his legs shifted in embarrassment.  
Dean’s movement jarred Sam from doing what Dean had been doing just moments before. Hazel eyes met emerald and the lust that they both shared caused faces to flush and heartbeats to raise. Sam swallowed loudly before he became a flurry of panicked limbs, dashing back to the bathroom and locking the door behind him.  
The moment was over before Dean could properly grasp what exactly it had been. He flopped over onto his side when he realized just how intense of a moment it had been, or rather his half-hard erection shifting in his shorts made him realize how intense it had been. Dean groaned; both at the excruciating pleasurable sensitivity that his tight boxers were creating, and at the inappropriate cause of his erection’s existence.  
He sighed, mentally rolling his eyes as he mumbled the ABC’s under his breath, his technique for softening himself up, as the mantra brought up an image of an old elementary school teacher of his, a heavy-set older lady who smelled of arthritis cream and who would recite the ABC’s to indicate to the class that she was waiting for the students to behave. As if Dean Winchester would be intimidated by the lady, even at the young age of seven.  
His mantra, which usually worked pretty quickly as the image of Mrs. Bundren filled his thoughts, wasn’t working. He could still feel how hard he was, it hadn’t even waned at all.  
Dean groaned again; closing his eyes tighter so he could focus harder on the image of his old elementary school teacher and see her clearer. This time he quietly hummed the tune through his clenched teeth.  
He really should have been paying attention better.  
He was about halfway through his third time trying it this way when his humming cut off. Oh, fuck. He mentally scolded himself before opening his eyes to his, now dressed, brother staring down at him.  
Sam’s head was cocked, eyebrow to his hair-line as he studied what his older brother was doing.  
Dean cleared his throat, “Sam,” he croaked.  
“Dean,” Sam paused, “what are you doing?”  
“Just trying to fall asleep,” Dean answered quickly.  
Sam pulled his lips together in a forced smile and pointed up. “That’s ceiling tiles. If I’m not mistaken the ABC’s are to –.”  
Dean growled, cutting Sam off before he could continue.  
“Right,” Sam muttered. He walked off and shut the lights off to the room, plunging them into darkness. “You don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t.”  
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Dean growled.  
“Fine, whatever you say,” Sam didn’t look back at Dean as he crawled into his own bed, facing away from him.  
Dean didn’t move, he simply chose to lie in his bed and stare at the back of Sam’s head. Sam didn’t move either; he was looking straight ahead at the wall, but all of his concentration was behind his back.  
An hour had passed with the two brothers locked into this situation. They both knew that the other one was awake. Too many nights together meant that they could never hide their consciousness from one another.  
Sam didn’t know what to do. Earlier when he had come out of the bathroom he was only meaning to grab some clothes. But there was a strange niggling in the back of his head that didn’t go away until he acknowledged his brother’s form lying in the motel bed. Sam looked with interest at the bunched muscles on his brother’s thighs. They were incredibly strong, and damn, there were no chicken legs on that boy. His gaze had traveled up higher until they came upon the dark boxers that Dean wore.  
Sam had given him crap about the underwear selection until he had been forced into wearing a pair once; Sam had shrunk all of his clothes in a defective drier in a Laundromat, and had to suffer in Dean’s too small clothes until they could replace his. The silky cotton and form fitting structure of the boxers were incredibly comfortable. And damn, if they didn’t make him look good.  
He looked now with appraising eyes at the similar effect they had on Dean. Highlighting his tanned skin, hip and thigh muscles looked dazzling, and the pressing bulge between Dean’s legs looked like an invitation to the best party of the year. He had been so enraptured with taking in Dean’s relaxed form that he didn’t even notice that Dean had caught him staring.  
The two locked eyes in a terrifying moment; both had flushed faces, dilated eyes, breathing quick….  
Sam had booked it to the bathroom before he could do more damage. It took him nearly five minutes to feel comfortable enough to exit the small bathroom, and then to come out to Dean curled up on his bed humming the ABC’s? Dean could lie all he wanted; Sam knew what he used that song for. Dean had passed down his personal technique for deflating boners when Sam was in middle school and had approached a much older and more experienced Dean with his problem.  
Now here he was, staring at the wall blatantly aware of the fact that Dean was awake behind him, and still wrestling with the memory of Dean fighting off an erection caused by Sam.  
He sighed in disbelief. What the hell was happening to them?  
Apparently Sam’s movement helped Dean come to a decision; Sam heard the ruffling of sheets behind him as Dean forfeited his bed in favor of Sam’s.  
“Dean?” Sam questioned lightly as Dean’s warm body wormed its way under the covers.  
“Don’t,” Dean warned.  
Sam felt mattress bounce as Dean moved his hips to inch his way closer to Sam. Dean’s warm groin pressed flush against Sam’s ass and he had to bite his lower lip to stifle a groan.  
Again. What the hell?  
“Dean,” Sam uttered, breathier this time as Dean draped an arm over Sam’s waist.  
“I said don’t,” Dean growled.  
“You don’t want to talk about – .” Sam stopped when he felt Dean pulling away. Placing his hand over Dean’s where it came to rest on his sternum Sam was able to nonverbally convince Dean to stay.  
“No talking then.”  
Sam felt as Dean nudged his head closer to the back of Sam’s neck, and pretty soon he could feel warm air over the back of his neck that signaled Dean’s exhale. The warm breath over the top of his spine seemed to crawl down his body, and Dean’s strong presence relaxed him. It was only a matter of minutes before Sam was lulled into a deep sleep.  
Dean could feel Sam going limp alongside him. The hell if he knew why they were acting this way, all he knew right now was that he wanted to curl up around Sam and sleep. He could ask questions in the morning.  
But he didn’t.  
Hours later as the sun was coming up the two had untangled their limbs. Dean had showered. Sam had run out for breakfast. And they got to work on the case. They acted as if nothing had happened that night, until they found themselves in the front seat of the Impala and without warning Dean’s hand had found its way to Sam’s thigh.  
It was unexpected, and occurred in the light of day. But damn it if it didn’t feel natural to the two of them.  
There was still no mention of it out loud still. Even as the behavior crept into the second day.  
Again they had slept in the same bed together, spooned and cuddly and warm. Dean had tried being in his own bed for the night, but found himself crawling in alongside of Sam once again, like some kid who had a nightmare and sought out the comfort of his sibling. And yes, he was painfully aware of the fact that he was supposed to be the older brother.  
And so the pattern had continued. Day after day. Sleeping together at night. Dean’s hand on Sam’s thigh in the Impala during the day. The pattern hadn’t altered or felt strange.  
Until now.


	2. Spooning is Never Enough Sam

Sam calmly watched on as Dean stroked his face a few times and then stared absently out of the driver’s side window. He knew his older brother well enough to know that Dean was sorting out his thoughts before speaking, but as the minutes crept by he began to feel uneasy.  
He was just about to ask his question again when Dean heaved out a sigh and looked back at him. The depths of his thoughts prevalent in his eyes.   
“Yeah,” he whispered so quietly Sam almost didn’t hear it, “I know what you mean.”   
Sam cleared his throat, stretched out his legs and looked back at Dean as he waited for the rest of what he knew Dean had to say.  
“This,” Dean waved his hand in the space between them, “this was – I don’t even know what this was.” He broke off again, Dean stared forward through the window and Sam found himself wishing that Dean would at least look at him.  
“But whatever it was it felt – damnit!” Dean sputtered. “This is why I don’t like talking.”  
“Then let me,” Sam offered.  
Dean finally looked over to Sam, his lower lip sucked between his teeth.  
“Dean, I don’t know what this was either. Okay? But I know what you mean. It felt normal. Natural even. Sleeping together, holding hands in the car.”  
“We have not held hands in the car,” Dean snapped angrily.  
“You know what I mean Dean.”  
They both looked away.  
“But now, I don’t know. It’s different.”  
“C’mon college boy,” Dean teased, “come up with something that my GED couldn’t think of.”  
“Like contradistinctive?”  
The playfulness disappeared from Dean’s eyes.  
“Nerd.”  
“Look Dean, maybe this was just a fluke, huh? Too many nights in motels together, long hours stuck together in the car. We’re in close proximity to one another all the time. Maybe we just needed some physical affection and we sought it from one another,” Sam shrugged, “now that it feels weird to us maybe that means it’s out of our system.”  
Dean didn’t buy it, whatever it was wasn’t normal. But the feelings Dean held towards Sam weren’t quite so intimate anymore, and damn if he was going to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant he didn’t touch Sam that way ever again.  
“Yeah,” Dean sighed, turning back to the steering wheel and starting the car, “I’m sure you’re right.”  
Dean drove them back to the motel and when they got back into the room he couldn’t help but notice that only Sam’s bed was the one with the ruffled sheets. He sighed contentedly, knowing that he’d be able to sleep on his own that night.   
He grabbed some clothes from his duffle and went into the bathroom to shower.  
Sam closed the motel door quietly behind him and watched as Dean busied himself about the room before ending up behind the bathroom door, leaving Sam alone.  
It felt strange being back in the space that they had shared like a couple. Dean had given up on trying to sleep on his own and Sam had enjoyed the company in bed. It reminded him of the cold nights he had spent in his apartment at Stanford with Jess; the two would cuddle under the warm blankets all night to stave off the cold that seemed to seep through the windows. But Sam hadn’t minded. He grew up sharing a bed with Dean.   
In fact, if he had to make the comparisons, he would say that it almost felt stranger to him when he wasn’t sharing a bed with Dean.   
Sam shook his head before reaching into his leather satchel and pulling out his laptop. Might as well look for their next hunt.   
***  
Dean came out of the bathroom nearly forty-five minutes later, and Sam was surprised that he hadn’t noticed how long Dean had been ‘cleaning’ himself. Dean looked drained, flush in the face, and his eyes were drooping as he crawled onto the bed and passed out on-top of the covers.   
Sam chuckled and continued on scanning headlines and news sites.   
After another hour of searching he had come up with several possibilities and saved them to his computer before closing the screen and creeping over to his bed. He was too tired to remove any of his clothes, other than his shoes, but he did go one step further than Dean and made sure to fall asleep under the covers.   
It took him a little while longer than it had for the last few nights, but eventually Sam drifted off into sleep.  
A few hours later, from what Sam could tell by the darker light in the room, he woke up to a warm presence pressed against his back. Dean had once again crawled out of his own bed and had himself glued to Sam’s back. Instead of being startled at the unexpected event he was thrilled.   
This felt no different to him than it did the first time Dean had done it, and while Sam was well aware of the hard object pressed into the crease of his ass, it didn’t resonate as an explicitly sexual interaction between his brother and him. They had grown up as teenagers sharing motel beds together with porn on every channel and strangers getting off loudly in the next room over; so unfortunately bumping into each other’s hard-ons throughout the night had become a common experience for the two brothers.   
Honestly the only thing that was odd between him and Dean had been the hand-leg thing in the car. For a while it had felt nice, like Dean couldn’t not touch Sam, like there had to be some physical contact between the two brothers in order to make things right. And, now that Sam was thinking about it, the only reason he had felt strangely about Dean doing it the night before was that it had felt too overtly sexual, like it was only the kind of thing that couples did.   
Sam wrinkled his nose in thought.  
It didn’t matter though. Sam was content with sleeping in bed with Dean. And for the night that was enough.


	3. Butter and a New Hunt

The next morning Sam woke up to an empty bed. He flopped over and stared at the rumpled but vacant sheets next to him and was about to get up when Dean entered the motel room with a take-out bag and two cups of coffee stacked on top of one another. 

Dean seemed a little preoccupied as he came into the room, because he gave a start when he saw Sam half-propped up on the bed staring at him intently. 

Dean gave a smirk in Sam’s direction.

“Sammy,” he muttered in greeting before using his foot to ease the door closed behind him.

“Morning,” Sam replied, digging the grit out of the corners of his eyes.

Dean stepped across the room to the bed Sam was in and handed him a coffee cup and a breakfast burrito wrapped in tin foil before taking his own breakfast to the small table in the kitchen.

Sam pulled himself into a sitting position, the sheets still covering his lap, and he slowly made his way through the offering Dean had brought him.

Sam couldn’t help but steal glances at Dean, who was doing his best to inhale his food in one bite. 

The morning was too comfortable, too routine. But maybe if the two brothers wouldn’t have finally felt contentment with themselves and their situation for the first time in their lives they could have been bothered to address the elephant in the room.

After rolling up the remaining tin foil into a ball and shooting it into the wastebasket by the door Sam got up to relieve himself in the bathroom. When he came out Dean was leaned back in the chair, legs kicked out, arms stretched back. His own remains of breakfast littered the table before him. 

Sam joined him at the table and logged into his laptop to pull up the details for their next hunt. He watched over the top of his screen as Dean stared lazily up at the ceiling, getting lost in his own thoughts. The sight of Dean, well rested, well fed and satisfied forced Sam into a dimpled smile. 

“So. New case?” Dean asked relaxed as he scratched a spot behind his ear. 

“Yeah. Illinois. Northern town. Looks like there’s a spirit of some kind haunting a road by a cemetery. It’s a bit of a local legend that if you park your car just before the bridge on the road that a ghost will appear and push your car across the bridge for you.”

“That doesn’t sound entirely like our kind of thing Sammy. Sounds more like a ghost tow-truck service if you ask me.”

Sam nodded his head to acknowledge what Dean was saying. “That’s the legend that’s been circling the area for decades. But the reality is that over the last 12 years there have been four different missing person’s cases, and six fatal accidents off the side of the bridge.” Sam pulled up an article of the latest car crash and swiveled the computer to face Dean.

Dean brought his arms back down and sat up straighter as he glanced through the article. Sam could see as his eyes widened slightly at the attached picture of the car crash at the bottom.

Dean let out a low whistle. “Damn, couldn’t imagine dying in a car crash like that. You’d end up the worse half of a metal pretzel”.

Sam half-smiled, not at all amused by what he was going to say, but more out of a joyous habit whenever he was allowed to correct his older brother. “Actually, that’s the difference between this latest car crash and all of the other car crash victims. She survived.”

Dean looked up stunned. “She ain’t dead?”

Sam shook his head.

“Again, damn.” Dean shook his head, “well alright. New case. I’ll pack up our stuff so you can shower, and then we’ll head out.”

“Alright,” Sam agreed stowing his laptop back in the bag and grabbing some semi-clean clothes out of his duffle before stepping into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

In less than 20 minutes the two brothers were on the road again, both on their respective sides of the car, bickering about the volume of the radio, and watching telephone poles tick of the miles as they drove by.

***** 

The two brothers arrived in the small Northern Illinois town just shy of the sunrise of the next morning. Dean had been the one to drive all night as Sam dozed on and off in the passenger seat. 

After checking into a hotel – giving them a chance to laze around for a few hours before needing to change into their cheap suits – they tracked down the hospital where the woman who was the victim of the most recent car accident was being treated.

Dean reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and brought out an ID badge, identifying him as an FBI agent to the nurse at the front desk of the hospital. 

“Hello ma’am,” Dean greeted the older woman warmly, “my partner and I,” he motioned to Sam who had mirrored his movements, “are looking for one Sarah Booker, and we were wondering if you could tell us what room she is in.”

“She’s just down the hall, and to the left. Intensive care unit. Shouldn’t be too hard to pick her out. Just look for the body that’s more plaster and cast than skin.”

Dean didn’t have to look to know that Sam had grimaced at that description.

“Thank you.”

“Dean,” Sam said quietly as they turned away from the nurse’s station, “if she’s still under a lot of painkillers from surgery we might not be able to trust everything that she tells us. That heavy kind of medication can lead to its own set of hallucinations on its own.”

“It can also act as a fantastic way to make people talk Sammy. People will admit to all kinds of shit when they’re doped up on meds. Perfect lubricant for interviews,” Dean countered.

“I know, we’re just going to have to really sift through whatever this girl tells us. If she can tell us anything.”

The two had reached the end of the hallway and were about to turn to follow the directions that the nurse had given them when a rush of nurses and doctors flew past, rushing toward the sound of a heart monitor that was currently signaling a morbid lack of activity. 

Sam and Dean caught each other’s gaze and took off in the direction that the flock of scrubs had gone.

They watched on as the team tried to sustain the life that was Sarah Booker. Hidden beneath the pulleys, casts and tubing that had been piled onto the hospital bed with her.

They weren’t able to succeed. 

Sam and Dean pulled out their badges quickly when one of the doctors had taken notice of two strange men apparently gawking at the fate of his patient. When he recognized the authority that the badges held he motioned for one of the nurses alongside of him to take over and approached the two federal agents. 

“I’m taking it that you had intended on asking some questions of Mrs. Booker,” he guessed with a sad frown on his face.

“Yeah, that was what we had planned on doing,” Dean replied stowing his badge away once again.

“I thought that Sarah had been stabilized since the accident?” Sam questioned, his familiarity of the case report making him question the sudden turn of events.

The doctor huffed out, putting hands on his hips and turning to look with Sam and Dean as the minty green and sterile blue sea around the bed faded away and only the basic personnel was left behind to unhook the hospital equipment and recording the details of Sarah’s last moments.

The doctor before Sam and Dean spun back around. Sam couldn’t help but notice the white doctor coat swinging freely behind him at his movements. It always seemed appropriate to him that doctors wore something so inconspicuously cape-like. Medical professionals had to have superhero qualities if they had to possess the confidence of saving the fragile lives of their patients.

“Well,” he began to answer Sam’s question, “she had been. Mrs. Booker had been in a nasty accident. Quite frankly it’s a miracle that she survived in the first place. For the first 36 hours we really didn’t think that she was going to make it. She had swelling in her brain and combined with the broken bones, ruptured spleen, collapsed lung, fractured vertebrae, blood loss,” the doctor broke off, though Sam and Dean knew that he had only listed a few of the things that had been wrong with the woman. 

“All of the physical injuries, coupled with the chemical reactions of the adrenaline and then the anesthesia and then the painkillers. God, we weren’t expecting her to make it. But she made it through the surgeries. Her body didn’t reject the blood from the transfusions. The swelling in her brain had gone down and we were expecting her to eventually make a decent recovery.”

The trio had their attention drawn away from them as the now unnecessary medical equipment was rolled away from Sarah’s bedside.

“So is there going to be an autopsy to figure out why exactly Sarah’s health declined so rapidly?” Sam inquired of the doctor. “If you were expecting a recovery then Sarah should have been relatively healthy. Considering,” Sam cocked his head alluding to the accident.

“Look boys. I don’t know exactly why the Feds are looking into a car accident. From what I’ve heard the locals are thinking that the reason behind the car crashing in the first place was break failure. An autopsy for her?” the man jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the still warm Sarah Booker behind him. “Isn’t going to happen. The local coroner has her hands full with things more mysterious than why Mrs. Booker didn’t make it.”

Dean was getting agitated with the doctor, Sarah had been his and Sam’s best lead on what was happening during these car accidents, and his frustration of not getting his questions answered was going to be taken out on the crass doctor before him.

“We’re going to need all of the files you can give us regardless of the priorities you place on our investigation. So if you’d like to be of use to Mrs. Booker you could go and retrieve us a copy of her file while she was under your treatment.”

Sam could see as the doctor visibly ground his teeth together before turning his head and barking after a nurse to go and get the papers that Dean was unkindly demanding.

****

“Dude, what was with the attitude spike back there?” Sam admonished as they exited through the front doors of the hospital.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked absently as he thumbed through the thick file detailing the treatment the late Sarah Booker had received after her accident.

“Snapping at the doctor like that? That was a little unnecessary for a man doing his job don’t you think?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Sam shook his head, “anything useful in there?” 

“Nada Sammy. Nothing weird or unexplainable,” he sighed. 

“Well,” Sam shrugged. “Nothing left to do but check out the road in question I guess.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to have to wait until tonight if we’re going to get anything useful out of it.”

Sam looked down at his watch. It was currently 10 am. They had at least nine hours to kill before they could get back to the job. 

“So what do you want to do then?”

Dean seemed stumped by the question. “Not sure. When was the last time we had hours to kill in a town with something in it more than just one bar and one motel?”

Sam pulled his lips down into his classic frown that often stood in place of a shrug. 

“You know what? I saw a bowling alley a few blocks up from the motel we’re staying at. It has a bar. You wanna go bowling Sammy?” Dean’s green eyes twinkled at the thought of spending the night in a bar doing something other than hustling pool. 

Sam chuckled. Bowling. Not a typical Winchester extracurricular, but what the hell. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

****

They stopped off at the motel to change back into their typical clothes. Jeans, topped with a black t-shirt and a solid green button up, left hung open for Dean, and a white muscle tank and a buttoned up yellow plaid shirt for Sam. 

Unfortunately for the brothers the bar-bowling combo didn’t open until later in the afternoon. Which meant that they drove around in the impala for a while longer before stopping at a restaurant called Grandma’s for lunch. 

They were seated in a booth, and they each ordered their typical fare. A burger and fries for Dean, and a House salad for Sam. 

They were going about their typical lunch, on an ordinary job, making ordinary conversation, when something not so ordinary happened. Sam’s left hand, which rested idly on the table, was soon overcome by a warm weight as Dean’s hand mistakenly grabbed it instead of the napkin he had been aiming for right alongside of it.

“Sorry,” Dean managed around his burger, before picking the napkin up and wiping his mouth on it, returning the napkin to where he got it. 

Sam hadn’t moved his hand at all, and when Dean’s hand returned the napkin to the surface of the table he snagged Dean’s fingers in his. 

Their eyes met in a brief moment. 

Sam didn’t know why he had grabbed Dean’s hand like that, and he was worried that Dean would lash out at him, but he didn’t. Instead his older brother surprised him by further lacing their fingers together and continuing on with his meal like it were nothing. 

Sam looked down to his salad, dimples playing on his cheeks as he smiled.

They finished their meals that way. And Sam was the one who pulled out his wallet when the waitress had returned with their bill. Disappointment was read in her face as she eyed the fingers now twined together. 

When they were leaving the restaurant Sam wanted to ask Dean if what he had done was okay. But instead he ended up asking, “now where?” as his arm snaked its way around Dean’s waist and pulled him close until their hips touched together as they walked. 

Dean in turn curled against Sam’s side and his arm grabbed casually at the back of Sam’s shirt. He dug into his pants pocket and retrieved the keys to the impala. “You decide,” he replied as he handed them over.

Sam took Dean’s position behind the steering wheel as Dean took Sam’s position in the passenger seat. Sam drove them around the area for a while before he saw a movie theatre pop up. He threw Dean a look, and Dean shrugged. Matinee it is.

Sam parked in the back of the lot. There weren’t many cars as it wasn’t even noon on a Thursday, but Sam knew the risk of door dings was an ever present danger. 

They made their way into the theatre and Sam bought tickets for the new Bruce Willis movie that was starting in half an hour. He also gave in to Dean ordering a large soda, large bucket of popcorn – which he topped with an unhealthy amount of butter substitute – and a large container of milk duds. 

After being set back a small fortune they went into the movie theatre.

Dean was snacking heartily on the slick popcorn as they looked around the almost empty theatre. There was a scarce amount of people in the theatre. Most of them were college kids from the local campus. Sam followed Dean to the back of the theatre and chose seats in the middle of one of the rows. 

They sat there for a few minutes; Watching the on screen movie trivia that asked questions about well-known actors and movies that they had played in. 

“Aren’t you going to have any popcorn?” Dean asked offering the bucket to Sam.

“And get my fingers drenched in butter?” Sam had turned to look at Dean, “no thanks.”

Sam turned back to the screen just as Dean’s hand appeared in front of his mouth, two kernels of popcorn held in his fingers. 

Sam shot Dean a look, he just stared back with a wicked smile on his face. That smile held something in it that reached Dean’s eyes. Something that Sam hadn’t seen since Salt Lake City. Since that first night that Dean had crawled into Sam’s bed.

After only a moment of hesitation Sam allowed his lips to open. Allowed them to open for his brother Dean. For Dean’s fingers. 

They maintained eye contact as Dean slipped the popcorn past Sam’s lips. Slowly. Oh so slowly. Dean somehow was able to make half stale, overly buttered popcorn seem much more delicious than it actually was. 

When the popcorn hit Sam’s tongue Sam clamped his lips down over Dean’s fingers. Removing the popcorn with his tongue and then slowly sucking and lapping the excess butter from the pads of Dean’s fingers. 

Dean’s mouth had opened in surprise at what his little brother was currently doing. 

“Sammy,” Dean spoke in a breathy whisper. And that’s when Sam realized he had closed his eyes. He opened them to see Dean with a lusty look in his eyes.

Before either brother could make another move the lights in the theatre began to dim, and the previews for upcoming movies began to play.

Sam reached up in the semi-darkness and gripped Dean’s wrist firmly. He could see from the light off of the screen the profile of Dean’s face as he watched Sam slowly, and sensually, pull Dean’s fingers from his mouth. 

Then he ruined the intimacy of the moment by crunching down on the popcorn kernels still in his mouth. Dean laughed in the form of blowing air out of his nose and Sam smiled, swallowing. 

Sam’s fingers loosened on Dean’s wrist and instead he laced their fingers together, bringing their coupled hands to rest on Sam’s right thigh. 

Both brothers returned their attention to the screen. 

Dean continued to eat popcorn. He was feeling lusty though. Sure over the last few weeks he had been the one to initiate contact. Crawling into bed with Sam every night, holding Sam’s thigh in the impala, but Sam had been doing everything today. 

It had taken Dean by surprise when Sam grabbed his hand at the restaurant earlier in the day, but only in the sense that he had done it during the day and in public. Until then all of their physical contact had occurred in semi-darkness and total privacy. But Dean had kind of liked the sudden and unexpected show of affection. 

He had been more than okay with Sam’s arm around him. It felt possessive. And Dean liked that. 

They hadn’t talked about what had been happening between the two of them since that first night in Salt Lake City. They were both aware of that fact. But they were also aware of the fact that neither of them was really concerned anymore. At this point they were going to do whatever they wanted, as long as whatever they wanted felt right.

And right now Dean’s lust felt oh so right. 

It made him want to try something with Sam. Something he had been thinking about for a few nights now as he pressed against his little brother during the night, and woke up hard in the morning with his fingers skimming the hairs that snuck down into the waistband of Sam’s pants. 

The main reason Dean had been curious to try what he was about to do was because one morning he hadn’t been the only one to wake up hard. And in his sleepy not-quite-away-yet state his palm had run across proof that his little brother wasn’t little everywhere. Especially when blood had been rerouted to create that proof. 

At the beginning of the movie Dean was able to slowly pull his fingers out from between Sam’s, yet he let his hand remain behind on Sam’s thigh. 

Sam was content with the change and instead threw his arm over Dean’s shoulders. Dean took a cue from Sam’s actions and snuggled as close as he could get to Sam’s side with the arm rest between them.

Dean watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam began to lose himself in the movie. And that’s when Dean started working. 

First it started with a finger. 

He moved his index finger up and down slowly. Lightly at first. And then he began to add pressure. Slowly increasing it until Dean was pressing his fingernail into the denim on Sam’s thigh. 

Sam subconsciously moved his thigh closer to Dean, enjoying the touch as he continued to watch the screen. 

Encouraged by Sam’s response Dean started moving his whole hand. Caressing at first. Letting his fingers and palm slowly move across the fabric, and warming the flesh that it covered. 

Sam was aware of Dean’s movements now, but not Dean’s ultimate intent. He shot Dean a sweet dimpled smile before looking back to the screen again. 

And that’s when Dean manhandled that line that they had been toeing into submission. Sure, they hadn’t exactly been acting brotherly these past few weeks, but they could still have passed it off as a, what was that word Sam had used a few nights ago? A fluke? 

Yeah. He and Sam could convince themselves that the whole ordeal had been a fluke. Just some desperately needed attention at the end of a long day of ganking monsters. But Dean’s hand had the effect of a nuclear warhead on that explanation. Blowing it into so many pieces that when the dust settled he and Sam would have no other choice than to stare at each other over the crater he was creating.

Dean lifted his hand, cupped it, and pressed it purposefully over where he knew Sam’s length was in his pants. 

Sam’s thighs momentarily stiffened and pulled together. But as soon as Dean applied pressure and stroked Sam’s legs fell apart, wide and useless. 

Sam hummed through clenched teeth and tight lips. He desperately wanted to look over at Dean’s face while he was doing this, but didn’t think he could handle the lust that was for sure showing in his big brother’s eyes. 

Dean had had enough of gouging his side on the arm rest, and in a flash he pulled his hand away and tipped up the arm, settling in even closer to Sam’s side. 

Sam was keeping up the pretense of watching the movie while he felt Dean curl up against his side. Dean managed to squeeze his left arm between Sam’s back and the seat and pulled himself flush against his side. Dean pulled Sam’s right arm down around him like a security blanket over his shoulders, and moved his right hand back to that warm and hard spot in Sam’s jeans.

Dean’s hand returned to his gentle cupping, stroking pressure. Sam had been pretty soft before, but the blood throughout his body was working double time to remedy that fact. Dean smiled into Sam’s shoulder as he slowly stroked his brother to a hard pressure that reminded him of iron wrenches.

Up until now Dean had kept his touches light, using his whole hand. And Sam had been able to keep up with him. But the movie had been going on for some time now, and action scenes were happening on the screen, with just enough sounds to hide the action that was occurring in his Sammy’s lap. 

Time to turn it up.

Using his index finger and thumb Dean applied excruciating pressure and traced from base to tip, drawing in lazy circles over the head, lining the ridge with his thumb as his index finger coaxed a wet spot from the head. 

Sam’s barely muffled moan was hidden over the sounds of gunfire erupting from the screen, and he brought his free left hand up to bite down on the fleshy part of his knuckled fist. 

Dean kept up his ministrations. He loved the feel of Sam coming apart for him. It was making him hard in return. And he closed his eyes and further burrowed his face into Sam’s chest. This way he could feel Sam’s hard pounding heart as it vibrated throughout his chest cavity. Sam’s increased breathing moved Dean’s head in a steady rhythm. And he could feel his ear grow warm as his always too hot brother got even warmer. 

After a few minutes of Dean’s hand repeating the same motions he could tell that a large amount of pre-come had escaped Sam’s cock, as his index finger circled an ever growing wet spot in the front of Sam’s jeans.

“Dean,” Sam managed out as Dean’s finger circled the spot in question. “You’re going to mess up my pants.” 

“Way ahead of you little brother,” Dean’s face pulled into a shit-eating grin as he pulled himself from his brother’s side and slid the bucket of popcorn off his lap into the seat next to him. 

Dean’s eyes connected with Sam’s as his little brother’s expression mixed with horror, excitement and lust as Dean got to his knees on the sticky theatre floor between Sam’s splayed legs. 

“D-Dean,” Sam stammered. Not believing, not daring to hope that his brother really meant to... 

Dean placed his strong hands over Sam’s upper thighs and licked over the wet spot he had created on Sam’s jeans.

“Oh shit,” Sam croaked. Movie totally forgotten. Not even looking at the screen. “you’re really going to --.” 

Sam still couldn’t say it.

But Dean didn’t need him to. 

“Oh yeah,” was his only response as he stopped with the foreplay and got to work. Dean wasn’t an idiot, he knew the movie had moved past the climax and the situation was quickly resolving itself. He needed to draw his perfectly innocent little brother into his own climax before the lights in the theatre came on. Not that that would stop him at this point. Because he’s pretty sure he would suck Sam off with the whole movie theatre watching. 

Actually, that didn’t sound all that bad. An exhibitionist kink. He hummed at the thought. 

Dean quickly undid the button and zipper of Sam’s pants. He wasn’t going to bother pulling any clothing off. He didn’t want Sam to be totally mortified if they were caught. His hand dug through the opening it created and rooted around before finding the opening at the front of Sam’s boxers. 

It took a lot of coaxing, mainly because Sam’s shaft was so hard and swollen at this point. But eventually Dean was able to spring Sam’s cock out of his shorts and into view.

Dean had to move his head to the side so the light from the screen could reflect off of the flesh of his brother. 

“Damn,” he whispered realizing that he was right, “little brother my ass.”

Sam’s hand reached out and stroked through Dean’s hair before cupping his chin and forcing Dean to look up at him. 

He saw that Sam was biting his bottom lip, silently begging Dean to continue. 

“Gonna take care of you Sammy,” Dean spoke as he brought his hand from base to tip a few times for good measure. 

He leaned in and – never having done so before – licked from balls to slit. Long and quick. 

Sam trembled and moaned. Clamping a hand over his mouth.

Dean’s smirk came back to his face. He wanted to go slow. Not only was this his Sammy that he needed to pleasure. But this was also Dean’s first time doing this. But if he didn’t want a time limit he should have started this activity some other time. 

He steeled himself for a moment, took a deep breath and dove in. 

Sam yelped.

Dean felt his jaw open to an extreme in order to accommodate Sam’s girth. He had to remind himself to keep his teeth away, but with how stretched his lips were he couldn’t exactly fold them over the sharp points that were digging into Sam’s flesh. 

His tongue was flattened out in the bottom of his mouth when he bobbed down, and he was only able to sloppily lave over the slit at the top when he pulled his mouth off. 

He did pause to pay attention to how Sam tasted. The pre-come was pretty slick. It rolled around nicely between his tongue and the top of his mouth as he swirled it around to get a feel for its consistency. 

Dean had eaten girls out before, but where they had tasted sharp. Like chemicals. Acid. Sammy tasted clean. Natural. It wasn’t sweet. His pre-come had that typical salty flavor to it. It reminded Dean of the way his fingers tasted when he licked the salt off of them after finishing an order of fries. He really liked the taste of his little brother’s pre-come he decided.

Dean descended on Sam one more time, and hallowed out his cheeks. Sucking hard as he came back up. 

Just as the ridge marking the head began pulling out of Dean’s lips Sam came.

Sam’s hips jutted forward as he finally lost control. He had been death gripping the seats next to him. Keeping himself pinned to his seat as his older brother sucked him off like the amateur he was. And it was the clumsiness that had Sam going off so hard; watching his brother fumble trying to figure out his next move, smacking his lips together as he tested out the taste. So when Dean pulled an expert move like what he just did with his cheeks it took Sam by surprise and he couldn’t help but force his dick further into Dean’s mouth. Forcing him to swallow whatever was unleashed whether he wanted to or not.

But judging by Dean’s reaction Sam was pretty sure he wanted to.

Dean gripped Sam’s thighs harder and continued bobbing as Sam came. Teasing out the aftershocks and marveling at the warm salty taste that he instantly realized he had become addicted to. 

When he was finished Sam couldn’t help but let his head fall backwards and he removed his hands from the seats to paw through Dean’s hair. 

He blinked a few times before noticing that the lights were coming on in the theatre. 

Dean had only a moment to admire Sam in the light before respectfully stowing his brother’s softening penis back into his pants before standing up.

He grabbed the bucket of popcorn and shuffled to the end of the row before looking back at Sam still relaxed in the theatre’s seat. 

“You coming?” Dean almost laughed at his choice of words. 

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and cleared his throat before following after his brother.

“Dean,” Sam spoke and Dean could hear the concern in Sam’s voice. “Aren’t you ah – do you need me to – ,” Sam waved his hand at him as he caught him on the steps.

“Already taken care of Sammy,” Dean knowingly moved the popcorn bucket to the side to show Sam the large puddle of come staining Dean’s jeans before using the bucket to hide his crotch again.

“To the motel then,” Sam laughed.

“To the motel.”


	4. Blood and Witches

Dean and Sam made their way back to the motel. This time it was Dean who was driving the impala, and Sam couldn’t help but point out the sudden change.

“Dean?”

“Mm?” Dean flicked a glance over to Sam, he had been idly thinking about the first time he had received a blow job in a movie theatre.

“Why did you have me drive after we left the restaurant?”

Dean’s lips curled up in thought, “dunno, we were just walking to the car and it didn’t feel right for me to drive. Felt like you were – .”

“The man and you were the girl?” Sam finished.

“What?” 

“Well, I mean. When we were at the restaurant I was the one paying for everything, and I put my arm around your waist. Those are guy type things; I’m just thinking that that’s why you wanted me to drive. It continued the premise that I was the man.”

“You calling me a girl Sam?”

Sam chuckled, “well you’re the one who got on your knees.”

Dean looked at Sam with venom in his eyes, “well I’m driving now bitch, so when we get back to the motel you’re returning the favor.”

“Oh really? You’re not going to have to take a pill in your old age in order to get it up again?” he looked back at Dean, “Jerk,” he added to complete his half of their classic banter. 

“Dude, I could have you suck me off right now,” Dean said matter of factly.

“I’m not doing that in a car Dean, that’s distasteful. 

“God, you are such a girl Sam!”

The two couldn’t help but laugh. 

Normally their bickering would have sprouted seeds of irritation in the two brothers, but having got off so recently they couldn’t help but both feel calm and lighthearted at the situation and with each other. 

Once they were back at the motel Dean was able to change into a new pair of jeans, and since it had been a few weeks since they had last done laundry the brothers walked down the street to a 24 hour Laundromat and washed every scrap of clothing they had in their duffels. 

It was a long process, so Sam had gone off to pick up a pizza and when he got back he and Dean started playing cards together to pass the time. 

There was no more hand grabbing, and neither brother put their arm around the waist of the other. Dean did find plenty of places for sexual innuendos however. 

By the time all of their clothes were cleaned, marginally, deep fried in a past-its-prime drier and folded it was dark enough for them to drive out to the bridge where the accidents were occurring. 

They had waited for two reasons, one; because all of the accidents had happened at night, and Winchester’s loved nothing more than putting themselves in the thick of the problem. And two; if they decided to go looking around the bridge they were less likely to be interrupted in the dark. 

Dean was the one behind the wheel as they rode up to the small bridge in question. 

The bridge itself was about 20 feet long, but about 30 feet up in the air. A small creek wound its way through a thick bed of pebbles and rocks at the bottom, but the creek wasn’t the reason behind the bridge. The two patches of ground that the bridge connected had a natural dip to it where the creek was. Sam could image that after thousands of years that the now small creek had once been a larger river that carved the groove out into the earth. 

Dean had parked the impala just before the bridge and the two brothers had walked around. Looking over the edge, examining the tire tracks that led to the new chunk of railing that marked where the late Sarah Booker’s car had taken a swan dive. 

Sam looked over the edge at the new section of rail; he could see faint disturbances at the bottom that would suggest something heavy had hit the ground hard. But honestly if it weren’t for the pictures of the car after the accident that were part of the police report, Sam would have never known a fatal accident had occurred in such an unassuming place. 

Dean stood at Sam’s shoulder and looked down with him before standing and looking in the opposite direction, away from Sam and the impala. 

“Sammy, look,” Dean spoke nudging Sam in the side with his elbow. 

Sam looked up and followed the direction of Dean’s gaze. There was an old rusty gate on the other side of the bridge. At the top in rusted metal he could barely make out the words Bloods Point Cemetery, but they were there. 

“Let’s check it out,” Sam said as he made his way to the gated entrance. 

They had to jump the fence, but that was no problem for Sam’s long legs and Dean’s limber nature. 

Flashlights out and cutting through the darkness Dean and Sam began investigating the headstones. Looking for something, nothing in particular that they could name, but they would know what they were looking for as soon as they found it; a talent that came after enough years on the job.

At a certain headstone Dean had to stop. There was something about the name and the date of the death that stood out to him. 

“Sam!” Dean called out.

He heard his brother shuffling as he jogged over to where Dean had been standing.

“Yeah?”

“This headstone ring a bell for you?”

Sam turned his own flashlight to the rock in question. “Amy McGaw, 1966-1983,” Sam read out loud. His lips pulled down into a frown, not recognizing what had been so obvious to Dean.

“This girl would have been what, seventeen?”

“Yeah.”

“Right before the unexplainable car accidents off the bridge there was a bus accident in ’83. The driver had been distracted and turned around to yell at some kids. The bus ended up in the wrong lane and plowed into a truck or something. Couple of the kids went flying, one of ‘em, a girl up at the front, ended up through the windshield. She survived the initial crash, but died on the way to the hospital. This girl right here,” Dean let the light from his flashlight play over the words before them, “is that girl.”

“D’you think she’s the one causing all of these problems?” Sam asked.

“Dunno. But before we spend the night digging up a grave for no reason how ‘bout we look into that bus accident eh? See if Amy here has a reason to be haunting the bridge.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

*****

“Hey Dean, check this out.”

Dean got up from his table at the library where he had been picking crud out from his fingernails while Sam worked his way through the machine that flicked through old newspapers in the town library. 

“Whaddya got Sammy?” Dean put a hand on the back of his brother’s chair and lowered himself to look at the screen.

“So get this. In 1983 that bus accident was caused because the students on the bus were harassing one of the girls. The bus driver was trying to settle things down and get the students under control when the bus crashed with the oncoming vehicle.”

“Yeah, I knew that much before,” Dean sighed, he had been hoping for some new information.

“Yeah, but what you didn’t know was that the girl being harassed was one Amy McGaw.”

Dean looked from Sam’s eyes back to the screen. Front page of the newspaper in question were two pictures. The one on top, above the fold, was the rumpled front end of a school bus. Below it was a photograph of a group of students who had been making their way back from a journalism competition. They were surrounding one student in the middle who was holding a very large plaque, declaring their status as regional champs. He couldn’t help but notice that one girl in particular was off by herself in the corner of the picture. 

“Can you zoom in on that?” Dean asked pointing at the screen.

“Yeah,” Sam said as he brought the picture into larger focus. 

“Check that out,” Dean growled pointing at the name beneath the picture.

“So Amy McGaw was one of the people on that bus,” Sam spoke Dean’s train of thought out loud. 

“Yeah, and look at that,” Dean pointed out a few select names from the bottom of the photograph. Sarah Booker’s name was among them, along with a few other names that Sam recognized from various incident reports from accidents on the bridge.

Sam huffed out, “she’s taking out the students who were on the bus that night.”

“Looks like we got ourselves a vengeful spirit to take care of Sammy,” Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder.

*****

Though it wasn’t in typical Winchester brother’s fashion, Dean and Sam elected to do their salt and burn early that afternoon. Their reason being that the cemetery was nestled among a cattle pasture and corn fields and they would be unseen during the digging and long gone before any smoke brought any attention. 

No point wasting time waiting for the cover of night.

Sam hefted another mound of dirt over the edge of earth they had created in their slow descent to reach the coffin. Dean was bent over the shovel handle above him, wheezing for breath and pale. Though he had stopped digging 20 minutes prior after only moving a handful of dirt.

“Dude, you getting out of shape or something?” Sam teased moving another mound of wet dirt.

“Dunno,” Dean panted. “Can’t catch my breath.” He shook his head and stood up straighter but doubled down fairly quickly as he reached for his lower abdomen. “Aargh,” he choked out.

“Dean? You okay? What’s wrong?” Sam moved over in the hole to get closer to Dean.

“Urgh,” Dean moaned and rubbed furiously at his belly. “Feels like somebody stuck me,” he crouched further down. 

Sam made to get out of the hole.

“Finish the job Sam, I’ll be fine.”

His little brother’s brow creased with worry, he didn’t like seeing Dean in any kind of pain, but figured that the sooner he burned the body the quicker he could get down in one of the motel beds and figure out what was wrong. 

“Right,” Sam turned back around and started digging with renewed gusto.

Another 20 minutes later and Sam was breaking apart the coffin that held Amy McGaw in her final resting place. He spared no time for dramatics as he quickly doused the corpse with lighter fluid and a heavy dosing of salt. 

Dean helped pull Sam out of the hole and watched his younger brother light a full book of matches before dropping it into the hole. The flames grew quickly and the heat flew up around the brothers. 

But whereas Sam felt a blast of heat, Dean felt a quiver of cold shake his body. His hands felt clammy as he clenched them into fists. He had exerted his limited strength pulling Sammy out of the hole. 

Dean knew he was about to pass out before it happened, and was fortunately able to take a step away from the edge to avoid the fall into the flames.

“Sammy,” he groaned out before he felt himself collapse.

Dean wasn’t awake as Sam caught him before he hit the ground. 

“Dean?” He shouted. Sam knew his brother had been feeling kind of weak, but he had never passed out like that before. 

He had to get Dean back to the motel and try and figure out what was wrong. Now.

*****

Sam had been able to keep himself calm as he cleaned up their mess at the cemetery and he stowed Dean in the back seat of the Impala. 

Now they were both back at the motel and Sam gingerly lifted his brother from the back seat, folding him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift. As Sam’s hand went to the back of Dean’s thighs to keep him from slipping off in either direction they came in contact with a warm substance. He pulled his hand away and saw it covered in a smattering of blood. He looked down to the Impala’s bench seat and saw a similar sight. 

There wasn’t enough blood to cause too much alarm. But the fact that Dean was passed out and bleeding at all were making Sam worried. 

He slammed the Impala door closed behind him and ran Dean back to the motel room.

He deposited Dean on the bed closest to the door and started immediately taking off his brother’s pants. Wherever the bleeding had started it was below the waist, and most definitely on his backside. 

Sam couldn’t be bothered to remove Dean’s shoes, or his pants fully, so he settled for tangling his brother’s lower limbs in his jeans as he yanked them down to mid-thigh. He then pulled a pillow down to Dean’s left side and rolled his brother on top of it, propping him on his side, as Dean had been painfully clutching his abdomen and knew that the way he had been maneuvering him had likely agitated the discomfort. 

Dean’s entire backside of his boxers were slick with blood. It was a heavy red color and turned Dean’s original grey boxers black. 

Sam grimaced as he pulled the band of his boxers down and held his breath for what he might find. 

He wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

Well, he was looking at Dean’s bare ass, sure. But other than that he didn’t know. Dean’s pale skin was colored pink from the blood, but Sam couldn’t see any possible wound that the blood had come from. 

He was about to slip Dean’s boxers back into place when he watched another drabble of black blood ooze from between Dean’s cheeks. 

Sam’s face pulled into a disgusted frown, “ugh, that’s disgusting,” he moaned pushing away from Dean and the bed.

For whatever reason the blood was coming from Dean’s ass. And while that was entirely disturbing just on premise Sam couldn’t help but worry.

Something about the way that Dean had been clutching his stomach reminded him of something troubling. The way his hand looked splayed over his lower abdomen specifically.

That’s when it hit him. The witch! It had done something to Dean, and himself. But whatever it was it was hitting Dean hard. 

Sam chewed his lip. He didn’t know how long he had before he would be out and bleeding like Dean. And if he went out he didn’t know what would happen to them then. He needed to get them somewhere safe and with someone who could help. 

But first things first. He had to clean up Dean’s baby, then Dean. Find a way to keep his brother from bleeding through his shorts and get their asses on the road.


	5. What's the Verdict?

Dean felt heavy. Like, bones injected with wet concrete, heavy. His head felt heavy, his arms, his hands, his legs, his feet. He felt heavy. Couldn’t move. So he settled for grumbling. The vibrations in his throat helped to tingle the nerve endings of his that had enough juice to respond. 

Two body parts that he could control were his eyelids, though it still took a ridiculous amount of work to open those suckers. They popped open. Fluttered a few times. Shut tightly of their own accord, and finally opened long enough for Dean to recognize that he was staring at the interior roof of the Impala. 

He tried to lift his head from the bench seat, and he succeeded. Somewhat. Almost immediately he felt nauseous and tired. So he allowed his head to thump back down to the leather seat and groaned, low and loud. 

Sam’s head popped over the seat for a moment. Concern flittered over his face.

“You’re awake,” Sam spoke plainly when his head went away from view. 

“S’mmy,” Dean slurred as his breath hitched up from his pathetic attempt to wake up. “Why d’I feel like I been bya truck.” 

He hated the incoherent tone to his voice. He felt fine mentally. Confused as hell, yes. But fine. Physically was another story. His lower belly and hip region felt like it was being sent through a meat grinder, his stomach felt like one wrong move would send him into convulsions to expel any food or bile that the organ held. 

“Dean,” Sam started. “I don’t know. But we were in that cemetery. I finished that burn and – and you went down.”

Dean remembered that. He had felt stomach pains and got lightheaded suddenly. He remembered recalling that he was about to pass out. 

“How long I been out?” For some reason the ‘V’ sound was just too difficult for his lips to form, so he avoided using proper grammar in favor of saving some of his energy.

“About six hours.”

“Six hours!” 

That got Dean going. His shock at his situation woke his ass up and he was able to lever himself up in the back seat. He gripped the back of the front seat firmly as he swung his legs down and peered through the windshield. Sam was flying down the highway and it was dark. 

“Where?” Dean knew his brother would know what he was asking.

“Bobby’s. I’m thinking whatever is getting to you might be caused by that witch remember? He touched us on our stomachs and now you’re having stomach pains? No coincidence,” Dean watched Sam shake his head.

“I need to get us there as quick as possible before it hits me. I don’t know why, but I haven’t felt anything yet. But that doesn’t mean it won’t come.”

Dean hooked an elbow over the front of the seat as he became aware of warmth in the seat of his pants. He dug a hand under the waistband at his back and gasped when his hand encountered the warm and distinct texture. He knew it was blood before he pulled his hand out, but he brought his slicked up hand in front of his face anyway.

“Sam,” Dean croaked.

Sam looked at Dean and took in the pained expression and the bloodied hand.

“I know. You were bleeding when I got you back to the motel. You bled out onto the back seat.”

He could feel Dean shoot him a look.

“Don’t worry, I cleaned it up.”

Dean sighed relieved. No blood stains for his baby.

“The blood is coming out of your rectum,” Sam continued. “I’m worried that whatever that witch did to you is doing something to your intestines. You were clutching at about the right spot I think. We’ll figure out more when we get to Bobby’s though. I called him and he’s looking up some stuff,” Sam huffed out. “I didn’t know what else to do Dean, I’m sorry.”

“S’okay Sammy,” Dean hooked both elbows over the bench seat and lowered his head to the leather seat. It felt cool against his forehead and that’s when he realized how sweaty he felt. 

“Air?” he asked as loud as he could, and Sam in turn rolled down the driver’s side window so that the cool night air could fill the cabin of the car. 

Dean sighed. He felt so tired. And hot. 

All he cared about at the moment was getting to Bobby’s and passing out on the couch once he got there. Maybe snuggle up with Sam on one of the beds. Get something to eat. He was hungry. Wonder if Bobby would make some cornbread…

“You have good timing,” Sam spoke up pulling Dean from his thoughts. “Cause we’re here.”

Dean looked up to watch as Sam nearly fish-tailed into the entrance to Singer’s Auto, and he relaxed knowing he was that much closer to the couch nap he had promised himself. 

Sam parked the car in front of the house and came around the side; opening the back door on the passenger side and reaching in to pull out a travel weary Dean.

“Balls,” Sam could hear behind him as he wrapped one of Dean’s unparticipatory arms around his neck and shoulders. “You weren’t kiddin’ when you said the boy was hurtin’ huh?”

Sam turned around to see Bobby flopping down the front steps, striding over to take hold of Dean’s other arm. 

The two men were able to maneuver Dean up the steps and into the house. He was dropped rather unceremoniously onto the couch, as the little strength Dean had put into keeping himself stable and upright drained away at the sight of couch cushions and pillows. 

“So you mind tellin’ me what you two yahoos got yourself into here?” Dean could hear Bobby scolding the two of them though he was far too tired to give Bobby his typical sarcastic response. “You told me Dean was hurt by a witch. But what the hell happened?”

“We were on a hunt,” Sam started. 

Dean could hear the two hunters amble about the room. His eyes were closed and he had a pillow pressed hard against his face, but he could tell that Sam had pulled up a chair and sat next to where Dead had taken up position on the couch. He also knew that Bobby was busy pouring shots of whiskey for the two upright men.

“It was a witch. He was taking married couples from their houses.”

There was a pause and Dean could imagine Sam accepting the glass and knocking back the contents. 

“It took us two weeks to find him. We weren’t sure it was a witch at first; the only giveaway was that we found a scrap of cloth at one of the houses where the couple had gone missing only recently. It was that ancient fabric that the more serious witches favor for hex bags, you know the one.”

Dean could imagine Bobby nodding his head. 

“After we knew what we were dealing with it became a little easier to find the damn thing,” Sam huffed out a sigh. “We still don’t know what he was doing with the bodies, but that knife you gave us worked.” Another pause. “Thanks for that by the way.”

“Well, I figured most o’ that,” Bobby grumbled. “But tell me what happened when you encountered the witch.”

“We followed him to a warehouse. And we thought we were pretty well hidden, but it knew we were there. Dean went to go and decapitate it while its back was turned, but it like blew us back.”

“Blew ya back?”

“Yeah. We both went flying. I don’t know much what happened after that. I hit my head pretty hard. But when I came to the thing was dead, and Dean was talking about how it had put its hand over our bellies, like, right above our groins. He said that it said some things, and when it had finished doing it to Dean he cut its head off,” Dean could almost feel the shrug that had been performed by Sam. “And it was dead.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. 

“Dean, are you awake?” Bobby asked.

He could only manage a low groan/growl as a response. He was too damned tired.

“When you offed the son-ofa-bitch did anything spectacular happen?”

Dean groaned low.

“No sparks or lights then? Like when you use that fancy knife on demons?”

Another groan.

“Balls,” Bobby sighed.

This perked Dean’s interest and he made a lighter inquisitive noise. 

“It wasn’t no witch you boys were looking after,” Bobby explained.

“It wasn’t?” Sam repeated as Dean found the resolve to push himself up a bit. 

He looked over to Bobby the same question in his eyes.

“Boys, if that were a witch that knife woulda made him flame out like when you salt and burn a ghost. If there was no reaction to it then you were dealing with some other creature,” Bobby explained quietly.

“What creature are we talking about here Bobby?” Dean’s voice sounded gruff and low. Most of the words got trapped in his throat at his effort to force out the full sentence.

The older man shrugged and huffed. “The hell if I know. Best course of action we have to take is to go over the facts again. Check out the lore. See if there have been new couples gone missin’ since you boys left.”

Bobby scratched the back of his neck. “Sam, I’m going to put on a pot. You get Dean in bed where he can get some proper rest will ya?”

Sam nodded and stood next to his brother’s side.

“I appreciate the concern,” Dean growled loudly, “but if you want me to move then you’re going to have to carry my ass.”

Dean had already forced his face back into the crease of the pillow and had latched his arms around it like a lifeline. He was hell bent on falling asleep for another possible six hours. 

“Dean,” Sam soothed rubbing his hand in comforting circles around Dean’s back. “You can sleep on the couch if you want, I won’t force you up the stairs to the bedroom. But we at least gotta change you before you go back to sleep.”

“Change me? I ain’t no diapered child Sammy.”

The silence is what caused Dean to open one speculative eye.

Sam was frowning down at his brother. Guilt in the younger man’s eye.

“Sammy?” 

He turned his head away slightly.

“What did you do?” 

Sam quickly ran from the house, Dean heard the distinct sound of the groaning Impala door open and Sam was back in the house before Dean had the chance to prop himself up. 

Sam crossed the room quickly and thrust out a green box into Dean’s scrutinizing vision. It took Dean a moment to process what he was looking at.

“Sammy,” Dean cleared his throat preparing himself for what he was about to say, “why are you holding a box of feminine hygiene products?”

His brother’s cheeks flushed at the question, but he offered no answer.

“Sam!”

“You’re bleeding!” Sam snapped, “I didn’t want you bleeding through your pants or staining the leather seats, so I figured I’d solve the problem.”

“With damn period products? I’m not a girl Sam!”

“You’re bleeding from between your legs Dean! These are kind of designed to solve that problem! So shut up and let me change you!” Sam’s eyes had gotten wide as he yelled at his older brother. 

Seriously though? He had never even had to buy this kind of stuff for Jess, did Dean even realize how ridiculous Sam had felt pondering the possible selections in the aisle of the drug store he had run to while Dean was unconscious in the motel? And the embarrassment he had felt paying for that stuff? 

And this is the thanks he gets thinking of his brother’s clothes and his goddamned car?

“Fine,” Dean grumbled swinging his legs off of the couch. “Wait, those aren’t tampons are they?” Dean studied the box Sam was holding more closely.

“Does it feel like there’s a wad of cotton shoved up your ass?”

Dean wiggled his hips and answered timidly, “no.”

Sam smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He reached down and helped Dean stand up; leading him to the bathroom so they could quickly get the experience over with. 

*****

The boys had been at Bobby’s for a week and every day was spent pouring over information. Information on lore. Information on the people who had been kidnapped. Information on the scrap of fabric that the boys had found. And quite frankly Dean was getting sick of it. 

Actually, scratch that. Dean was just sick. 

He had felt better after a nap and something to eat that first night they spent at Bobby’s. The three men chalked it up to exhaustion from overexerting himself when they were digging up the body. 

Dean’s bleeding had gone away that night to, much to Dean’s relief, as he hated the thought of it continuing on long enough for Sam to buy a second humiliating green box. They still had no idea what had caused it though.

Now, Dean just felt like hell. He had headaches, all day every day since they arrived, and he felt nauseous. Dean’s constant worship over the toilet was a source of worry for all three men, as they had yet to figure out what it was that had laid hands on Dean and Sam. That and they were still wondering why it had yet to affect Sam.

Dean was huddled next to the toilet in the downstairs bathroom scrubbing a hand over his face after puking up his lunch when he heard Bobby curse loudly from his study down the hall.

He got up and made his way to the room despite his lingering nausea.

“What is it Bobby?” Dean asked weary as he came into the room. 

Sam was already standing at the desk peering into the old book that his friend had been studying.

“I think I know what you boys were huntin’, and if I’m right we’re in for a heap of trouble,” the older man gruffed. 

“And what would that be?” Dean lowered himself into a chair.

“Demon,” Bobby answered simply.

Dean actually had to laugh at that one. “Bobby, I think Sam and I would have known if that thing were a demon. And besides, demons aren’t really a problem anymore since we got that knife.”

“He isn’t talking about a normal demon Dean,” Sam spoke quietly still looking down at the book. 

Dean shot his brother a glance, “what?”

Sam picked up the book he was studying and laid it on the corner of the desk where Dean could see it from where he was sitting. 

There was a picture of a naked woman displayed on the page. She was laid out on a bed and her arm reached out, in the other half of the picture the image was reversed. Dean could tell it was meant to be the same woman, but this time she was colored in red, cloaked in black robes and outlined in black. 

Dean shifted his eyes to the top of the page and read the title word out loud in a questioning tone, “succubus?” He looked at both men in turn.

“The succubus,” Bobby began to elaborate. “A demon bent on seducing men in order to create hybrid demons, Cambions.”

“But aren’t those supposed to be girls?” Dean irrationally argued, “we were up against a man Bobby, not all men swing that way.”

“We were up against the incubus Dean,” Sam explained. “The male counterpart to the succubus.”

Dean’s eyes darted back and forth between Bobby and Sam. “Okay, if we were against the male counterpart then wouldn’t the incubus be all about seducing women? Wouldn’t he be at bars hooking up with random chicks instead of kidnapping couples of men and women?”

“No, no. You’re not getting it Dean. The succubus and the incubus are the same being. The succubus is the demon when it’s in female form and the incubus is the demon when it’s in male form.”

“So then why was this thing snatching up couples?” Dean questioned, “and why only certain ones? I didn’t think that a succubus would need a couple in order for their typical thing to work.”

Bobby sighed, bringing the attention of both boys to him. “Boys, I have an inkling as to how this succubus bitch works. But I gotta ask you boys a bit of a personal question first.”

He looked at the two younger men, the brothers locked eyes with one another before turning back to their friend.

“Our silence is your queue Bobby,” Dean spoke, his sarcasm presiding. 

Bobby sighed, a mixture of irritation and exhaustion, not to mention embarrassment at what he was about to ask. “You two haven’t had any changes to your relationship have you? I mean, you haven’t been acting,” Bobby searched the floor with his eyes for the rest of his question, “more than just brotherly have you?”

Dean could feel the embarrassment and guilt rolling off Sam, but he refused to look at his brother and acknowledge it. “And if we were?” 

“Well, according to some more recent lore the succubus is a sexual demon who is able to project its own desires. Basically what I’m saying is that the minute you guys walked into that town you were breathing in the world’s most powerful aphrodisiac. That bitch cranks up a town’s sex drive to the point where anybody would hook up with anybody,” Bobby turned from the boys, “even brother with brother,” he whispered despite the fact that Dean and Sam could still hear him.

Dean stood; his lips parted as he thought through Bobby’s words and prepared himself to speak immediately. “Are you tellin’ me that everything I’ve been feeling about Sam over the past few days is because of that demon?”

Dean skipped over confirming what Bobby already knew. 

Bobby looked between the two boys with an increased amount of concern in his eyes, if that were possible. “What in the world are you talking about boy? Those feelings would have gone away the minute you cut that demon’s meat suit up.”

Bobby kept bouncing back between guilty face and guilty face.

“The succubus isn’t as strong as your typical demon. Both good news and bad. When you cut up that thing’s meat suit it had to vacate the building. All the power a succubus has goes into sexual energy. You wouldn’t a seen a smoke cloud or nothing. But the succubus isn’t strong enough to recover from a fatal would to its vessel. Which means you can temporarily remove the problem, but you don’t know where it’s going to pop up again.”

Dean stood up and stepped forward to Bobby, his nervous energy found its release through Dean’s arm as it waved around wildly as he talked. “So you’re telling me that the minute I cut that thing up that Sam and I were no longer swimming in sex hormones?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’,” Bobby spoke uncomfortably.

Dean sat down quickly. “So those feelings we had for each other in Salt Lake, those were thrust upon us by some demon looking for some sick kicks?”

“Dean, I think you’re overlooking the bigger problem here,” Sam spoke up quietly.

“And what’s that Sam? In case you didn’t notice that little escapade at the movie theatre that you liked so much didn’t happen in Salt Lake!” Dean sat back in the chair and ran a hand over his face, making a few swipes through his hair. 

“Dean.”

He looked up and saw that Sam had moved a little closer, “you did pick up the part where Bobby told you the end game of the succubus right?”

“Yeah Sam, sexual overdrive.”

“No Dean. Children. The succubus is supposed to find humans to give birth to Cambions.”

“So?” 

“Fatigue? Nausea? The bleeding?” Sam listed off and Dean refused to think too hard about what Sam was implying.

“What are you saying Sam?” Dean snarled. 

“I’m saying that you’re pregnant.”

Dean felt heat run over his lips and he realized how hard he had been biting down on his lip. He sighed, releasing his lip. 

“You kind of have to have sex in order to get pregnant Sammy,” Dean was going for broke, blatant denial was all he had left in his arsenal, “and despite public your opinion of me it’s been a few months since I’ve had any.”

“Dean.”

Dean looked at Bobby, “shut up with the stupid boy. You, Sam and I all know that the demon woulda knocked you up in that warehouse from what you told me.”

The realization to what was being told to him washed over Dean. He scooted the edge of the chair and propped up his suddenly heavy head in his hands. He would never admit it out loud, but he was barreling towards a dizzy spell. 

Bobby shuffled toward the door and stopped, shoulder to shoulder with Sam. He clapped a hand down on Sam’s shoulder, “I guess congratulations are in order,” he grumbled. “You’re going to be a daddy.”

He made toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked looking away from his distressed older brother.

Bobby paused and spoke without turning around, “to the drugstore, gonna pick up your brother a damn pregnancy test.”

Dean heard what his friend was saying and groaned. After he heard the front door open and close he looked over to his brother who looked like a civilian who had just seen their first ghost. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you help me to the bathroom? I gotta throw up and if I stand on my own I’m going to pass out.”

Sam shook himself from his position and helped to move Dean down the hall to the bathroom, he let out a sad chuckle as he deposited Dean in front of the toilet.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m really thinking that Bobby is wasting his time with a pregnancy test,” Sam let out another chuckle. 

 

Dean wrapped his hands around the toilet ring and prepared himself for the onslaught. “I’m starting to think the same thing.”

 

Chapter Seven  
Bobby returned almost an hour later. Carrying a few bottles of hunter’s helper and a small plastic bag that Dean could see through as he chewed his way through a sleeve of saltines sitting at the kitchen table. He could see the pink and white box and knew exactly what was inside of it. 

Sam had been leaned up against the fridge when Bobby entered and almost immediately the previous conversation started up again.

“So why do you think the succubus was snatching up couples?” Sam asked as Bobby set down his purchases.

“Well,” he sighed, he was about to start talking about the victims of the succubus’ influence, and he had to try to keep himself objective despite the fact that the boys were in fact victims as well. Though they would never think of themselves that way.

“I told you about the increase in sex drive right?”

Both boys nodded.

“I’m thinking that in order to increase her, er, its chances of getting the most bang fer your buck that it took the healthy, young, and sexually active couples. That’s the reason it targeted such a large area. It was trying to weed out the ones who were too old or too unhealthy.”

Bobby shrugged. 

“That and I’m thinking that if the couples were already willing to do the deed with one another then it would be easier to get them to breed demon babies in the future.”

“So then why us?” Sam questioned. “We aren’t a couple. And if it wouldn’t have been for the influence of the succubus we wouldn’t have…well, we wouldn’t have done what we did in Salt Lake City at least,” Sam shied away from the older man and spoke the last bit quietly to the floor.

Both brothers were trying to understand why their feelings had continued after the demon had literally left the building. It explained why immediately after Dean’s apparent slaying of the monster that the two had been startled by Dean putting his hand on Sam’s thigh. They were no longer high from sex hormones. 

But the fact that they both sought each other out after Salt Lake City? There was an entirely different reason behind that, one that wasn’t supernatural. So they weren’t about to include Bobby in those discussions. If they ever had any.

“My guess is that it saw some kind of a,” Bobby cleared his throat, “sexual – uh – thing between the two of you and saw another chance for a couple to make a kid.”

“So a Cambion huh?” Dean spoke as his hand absently rubbed over his muscular stomach. There was nothing there for him to actually feel, but that didn’t stop him from touching the area. “Half-demon, half-human,” Dean chuckled, “and 100% Winchester.”

“And that ain’t the only one, if the succubus has those four couples then we’re looking at the possibility of five dangerous creatures being birthed in nine months,” Bobby said aloud what the brothers had been trying not to think about for the last hour.

“So what’s our move then?” Sam stepped away from the fridge and joined Dean at the kitchen table. “Do we track down where the demon took these couples to and try to abort them?”

Dean glared at Sam, but his younger brother didn’t see it.

“M’afraid that won’t work. Nothing is going to harm those kids. Short of gutting the mom’s with that knife you boys got I don’t think you can kill ‘em,” Bobby talked professionally, despite the fact that he was discussing how to kill four, well five, unborn children.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Sam looked guiltily at his hands atop the table.

“You want to about our child?” Dean asked quietly.

“What?” Sam’s head snapped up, “no, I mean. Well, Dean. We can’t let our emotions get in the way of this one.”

“You do realize that when you suggest to kill those other kids that you’re also talking about our baby right?” Dean felt like he was going to irrationally start crying. Of course what Sam was saying made sense, but he absolutely couldn’t stand the idea of losing the little life that he only just learned was growing inside of him.

“Dean, I’m just saying that we need to think carefully about this one. Cambions are powerful and ridiculously dangerous. We can’t risk letting them out into the world.”

Dean felt a surge of emotions flow through him. He really wanted to deck Sam for talking that way, but he also knew that he was feeling that reaction due to hormones. Pregnancy hormones. 

“I need to throw up,” Dean excused himself from the table and sprinted to the bathroom in time to throw up the crackers he had eaten. 

When he got back into the kitchen he grabbed the glass of water he had been drinking, took a sip, rinsed out his mouth and spit the water into the kitchen sink. 

“So if we can’t kill them,” Dean winced at his cold words and started rubbing his stomach again, “then what do we do?"

Bobby huffed, “well, the way I figure it we have a few things to sort out. Number one we gotta find out where this demon stashed those couples. We need to find all four of them before the due dates, because it might be harder to find the kids after they’ve been born. Next we gotta figure out what to do with ‘em once we’ve found ‘em. Sam and I can look up all the lore we can find on these things and maybe we’ll find something.”

“What about me?” Dean asked.

“You’re priority number one Dean. Taking care of your ass is going to take up all of our spare time. If you’re really pregnant then all them girly hormones are going to be a real bitch for you to put up with. I’ll bet that’s why you’re starting the morning sickness so early. And why you’ve felt s’damn tired lately,” Bobby looked at the man before him who indeed looked tired, pale and hungry. 

“Sam, take your brother upstairs and get him in bed. I’ll make up something that he might be able to keep down.”

Bobby set about the kitchen. 

“I don’t need to be taken care of. I’m not a damn cripple,” Dean argued, though the thought of Sam assisting him up the stairs to take a nap in bed did sound wonderful. And he was really hungry. He’d only been able to keep down a bare minimum of food lately, as his morning sickness occurred during every hour of Dean’s day. And sometimes at night. 

“No, you’re not,” Sam agreed, putting his hand on Dean’s lower back and rubbing in soothing circles. “But how about the two of us go upstairs together and both get some sleep huh?”

Dean looked at his younger brother and he noticed the tired look in Sam’s eye. He’d been keeping his brother up at night with worry, he knew for a fact because the brother’s had refused to sleep in separate beds since their arrival at Bobby’s. They hadn’t offered an explanation for their behavior to the older hunter, and now they didn’t need to. 

“Fine,” Dean growled out, allowing Sam to turn him toward the stairs, but not before Dean grabbed the plastic bag off of the table, assumptions, even ones as strong as the three hunters had, were nothing compared to hard facts. 

The two brothers made their way into their bedroom and Dean sat down on the edge of the bed while Sam shuffled about the room. Pulling out a set of sweats for them to change into. 

Dean accepted the clothing; he shrugged out of his over shirt and slid off his jeans before pulling the sweats on. 

Other than the one time at the movie theatre the two brothers hadn’t done anything more physical than spooning in bed at night. Dean knew how he was feeling about his little brother. He loved him. Like really loved him. He knew that these were feelings brought on by what he had experienced as a result of the succubus, but if he still felt that way then was it really wrong to act on it?

“Hey Sammy,” Dean approached the younger man who was busy changing out of his shirt. “Can I ask you something?”

Sam saw the heavy look in his brother’s eyes and knew that he was going to be asked an important question, “sure, what is it?”

“Do you regret what we’ve done? All things considered?”

Sam knew the question behind what Dean had said. Did Sam regret letting Dean suck him off in the movie theatre now that they knew that it had been done of their own accord? That those strong sexual feelings they had about one another were a result of their own desires? No supernatural influence whatsoever?

“Hell no. You?”

Dean actually smiled for the first time all week. “No.”

“Is that all?” Sam couldn’t help but notice that Dean didn’t look finished.

“No, I just --,” Dead chewed on his lower lip.

“What is it Dean?” Sam stuffed the shirt he was about to put on back into his duffle and turned fully to face his brother. “You can tell me, s’okay.”

Dean looked straight up into his brother’s eyes and resolved himself to say what was on his mind. “I just can’t help but notice that we haven’t kissed yet. And I kind of want to try.”

Sam gave Dean a sweet dimpled smile. “We can do that. But brush your teeth first.”

Dean chuckled, as if he hadn’t just asked to kiss his younger brother. Dean made to go into the attached bathroom but first picked up the contents of the plastic bag. 

Sam sat down on the bed and waited patiently as he heard the toilet flush and then the faucet in the sink running. A few minutes went by before Dean emerged from the bathroom with the white wand with the unsurprising result. 

“What’s the verdict?” Sam asked lightheartedly.

“I either passed or failed depending on how you look at it,” Dean showed the stick to Sam who immediately saw the plus sign. 

“No shock there,” he muttered as Dean lobbed the stick into the trash can of the bathroom from where he stood.

Sam stood and immediately found his face a few inches from Dean’s. He knew what his brother wanted to do, and he really wanted to try it himself if he was being honest. 

Dean licked his lips unconsciously as he waited for Sam to react to their proximity. 

“How ‘bout we just go for it?” Sam offered.

Dean nodded and brought his hands up to either side of Sam’s face. Their eyes locked onto one another’s as Dean pulled Sam’s face closer with the force of a feather in the wind. 

Their eyes closed slowly as their lips pressed into a chaste embrace.

Sam’s lower lip trembled at the softness that Dean was showing him, as if he was the one who had been sick lately. 

Sam brought his hands to Dean’s slender hips and stepped closer, slotting their thighs together perfectly. 

Dean opened his lips a little and sucked on the pout of Sam’s lower lip. The warmth of Dean’s breath and the feel of his brother’s saliva wetting his lips caused Sam to moan and pop his lips open. 

Dean in turn angled his head and forced more of himself onto Sam.

Sam could taste the minty flavor of Dean’s toothpaste as Dean’s lips smoothed over his own, and as Dean tentatively allowed his tongue to pass between Sam’s welcoming lips. 

The brothers let their lips and tongues gently slide over one another. 

Sam chuckled and squirmed at the sensation of Dean’s tongue tickling the roof of his mouth, and he could feel Dean smile at the reaction he caused.

With the way their bodies were pressed together it was easy for both brothers to tell that their soft yet heated kiss was making them both rock hard, but other than a few gentle rocking motions their erections went ignored. This moment wasn’t about release; it was about a first for the two.

Besides, like they were going to do that while Bobby was at home.

Dean broke off the kiss after a few minutes and stared back at Sam’s closed eyes as he bent Sam’s forehead down to his own. 

“That,” Sam releasing a heady whisper, “was incredible.”

“You think you can behave yourself if we crawl into bed now?” Dean asked half-serious, his blatant exhaustion was already causing his erection to wane.

Sam’s eyes opened as he pondered that question.

“You get in bed, I need a quick shower,” he pressed a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips and went into the bathroom.

“That’s what I figured,” Dean chuckled as he made his way under the covers. It had been a long day. His head was whirring, not just from his and Sam’s kiss, but from all of the new information. 

Dean was taking things pretty okay thus far, but he wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to keep calm, and his efforts left him drained. He settled onto the pillows and was out before Sam got out of the shower and sat on the bed next to him. 

He woke up just enough when Bobby came up to drop off some soup to sip at the warm bowl. He only ate as much as Sam demanded of him before shoving the bowl away and falling back to sleep.


	6. "Little Virgin Mary"

The three hunters were able to easily settle into a comfortable routine. Well, as comfortable as three paranoids made up of one surly drunk, one reigning champ of the angsty teenager competition, and one forced-into-sobriety pregnant male could be. 

Sam spent most of his days pouring over ‘the lore’, he had made virtually zero progress in figuring out more about the succubus then they had after their initial discovery of what exactly it was they had gone up against in Salt Lake City. 

Bobby helped Sam out as much as he could, but he had other responsibilities to keep up after. Bobby was still the go-to-man for many other hunters, and he was answering phone calls day and night for dozens of people who demanded information or escape routes from nosy LEO’s who wanted to speak to their superiors if their front as federal officials was questioned.

Sam was actually impressed with Bobby’s resilience. There was one time when Bobby was interrupted four times during one meal from four different hunters requiring four different services from the old hunter. Sam was actually starting to rethink their strategy of staying at Bobby’s one afternoon when one of the ratty phones on Bobby’s wall rang for the third time within ten minutes.

“I’m busy, so this’d better be good you sonofabitch,” he had snapped into the phone as he was again interrupted from heating a can of stew on the stove. 

Sam ducked his head further into the book he had been taking notes from and resolved to talk to Dean that night about moving out of Bobby’s.

“AND!” Bobby shouted into the phone startling Sam. 

“So you’re calling me when I’m up to my pits in paperwork to ask if one of my boys in the field is an agent?”

There was a brief pause and Sam could hear the high pitched defensive voice on the other end of the phone. 

“Well I tell ya what,” Bobby spoke clearly agitated, “you stop wasting my goddamn time and let my boy do his job, or I’m going to have to call whatever dickhead it is you call a superior and have a chat with how he runs his station. You hearin’ me boy?”

A more garbled response came through.

“Alright then princess, you have a good day,” Bobby slammed the phone back on the wall and turned back to the sad pot of stew he had boiling on the stove. 

Sam was more than a little startled at the silence that went throughout the kitchen.

He cleared his throat, “listen Bobby…”

“Don’t you go givin’ me a lecture boy, cause I ain’t in the damn mood.”

“Bobby, I was thinking that perhaps Dean and I --.”

“Oh the hell you were,” Bobby snarled looking at Sam, “you ain’t giving me a speech on how you two idjits are better off on your own.”

“Well, I mean, Bobby --.”

“Don’t ‘Bobby’ me boy, I ain’t lettin’ you leave this house to go and get into a world of hurt and trouble,” the older man stepped closer to the table, ignoring the fact that his stew was bubbling dangerously on the stove.

“You two idjits are like my own boys, and I ain’t going to let you leave without us fig’ring out wha’s wrong.”

Sam could tell how flustered and heated Bobby was feeling as his Midwestern accent deepened and more and more letters were dropped from his speech.

“Now you need help with the lore, and Dean needs help keeping his head out of his damn ass. Do you hones’ly think that you can handle reading your books while keeping up with him?” Bobby shook his head, “that boy ‘as already torn through four cars this week looking for projects to keep his mind busy.”

Bobby dropped down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table across from Sam who was stock still, holding his forgotten book up at an angle as if he were reading it and not regarding his friend.

“Listen. You two are adults and can leave if you want to, but I’d feel a whole heap of a lot better if you stuck around. I like the idea of being close to Dean in case anything happens again, cause if he passes out or starts bleeding again we can’t exactly take him to a hospital.”

“Actually I’ve been thinking about that,” Sam said finally putting his book down. “Dean’s pregnant for sure, he took that test you bought and it was positive.”

“No surprise there,” Bobby heaved himself from his chair and addressed the bubbling stew he had ignored.

“Yeah, well Dean was right about what he had said that first night, he hasn’t had any sex in months. I know because he’s developed a habit of talking about it lately,” Sam had to shudder at that as memories of some of the things Dean has told him rolled over his forethoughts.

“Well no, he woulnd’ta had to, that incantation and hand placements the succubus did on the two a’ you would have been the conception.”

Sam and Dean had figured as much. It explained why Sam had felt totally sexed out as they had left the warehouse, and Dean too who finally admitted feeling the same way. 

If Sam’s theory was correct it would hopefully answer why Dean had been bleeding and tired that first night they had arrived at Bobby’s.

“I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about more bleeding though. I’ve been reading up on pregnancies every once in a while and I’ve kind of pieced together what I think is going on,” Sam sat up straighter in the chair as Bobby threw him a disapproving look.

“You tell these theories to Dean? Cause I’m thinking he’d like to know what’s going on with him.”

Sam let a laugh out, “I tried last night. Dean didn’t take too kindly to the ‘little virgin Mary’ theory. He started blabbering on about how if he was supposed to carry a child around for nine months that he should have at least had a decent screw to go along with it,” Sam let out a hallow laugh.

“So what’s your explanation?” Bobby asked curious as he poured out his too hot stew into three bowls.

“Well, I mean obviously there’s nothing on succubus induced pregnancy for males,” Sam started.

“Shocker there,” Bobby interrupted depositing the steaming bowl in front of Sam who smiled in thanks.

“But from what I’ve read up on I think that bleeding Dean experienced could have been a combination of um,” Sam cleared his throat, “the fertilized egg implanting in the wall of Dean’s uh – uterus, and uh,” Sam reached up and made a show of moving his bangs from his eyes, “the uterus lining thickening as a result of pregnancy.”

Bobby silently spooned his stew with the calculated coolness of a man who’s heard much more in his life to stop him from his appetite.

“My other thinking on the front of the bleeding explains the dizziness that caused Dean to pass out when we were digging up the corpse. A lot of pregnant women suffer from low blood pressure and low heart rates when they’re pregnant, which makes for dizzy spells if they move too much or like if they stand up too quickly. Also, they’re heavily advised from doing any lifting.”

“You mean like the lifting involved in digging up a corpse?”

“Yeah. From what you’ve told us these kids are pretty indestructible, but that doesn’t mean that Dean’s body knows that, so I’m thinking that the bleeding and the fainting were brought on when Dean over exerted himself and his body, er well, more specifically his uterus,” Sam shuffled in his seat again at the discomfort of having to use that word again, “tried to carry through with a miscarriage.”

Sam chewed on his lips nervously as Bobby thought through the theories that the younger hunter had explained to him.

“Well I guess there’s good news in that then,” he murmured quietly before turning to his bowl again.

Sam’s brow furrowed at Bobby’s response. “There is?”

“Yeah, before I came in here to start dinner your idjit for a brother decided that he was going to heft up a car on jacks and roll under the engine,” he shrugged as if indifferent to the situation, though Sam knew for certain Bobby would have advised Dean not to, a confrontation with his brother would explain why Bobby had finally snapped on the phone earlier. “Least we know that if the car falls on him the kid’ll be okay, even if it does lay your brother up in the hospital for a while.”

Sam looked at the unappealing bowl of stew Bobby had made for him. He wasn’t really hungry, and if Bobby was comfortable in the kitchen for a while…

“I’m going to go out and talk to Dean, give us a few minutes?”

“Yeah.”

Sam walked out the front door to Bobby’s house and braced himself against the chilly breeze in the air. It was late August, but at night in South Dakota it could get kind of cold. He walked up and down the aisles of wrecked cars that Bobby had stacked around the yard and eventually was able to follow the sounds of metal striking metal to find Dean on his back on a crawler underneath of a propped up car. 

He approached quietly. The sun had started going down and orange rays fingered their way through the vehicles. Dean was clearly visible as the harshness of the light faded away but still illuminated things not in its direct path. 

Dean’s bow legs were poking out from underneath the car, one foot was propped up on the heel of his combat boots and the other was pressed flush to the gravel strewn ground. His heel tapped out the beat to the song Sam could hear Dean humming as he idly worked on whatever it was that he had found to peak his interest. 

Sam crouched down next to the car and though his feet had crunched on the gravel Dean was far too gone in his own thinking no notice that Sam was next to the car.

At this level he could clearly hear Dean humming one of his favorite Def Leppard songs. He stayed as he was for a moment. It had been years since he had last heard Dean humming his mullet rock without it actually playing. 

Dean had done it all the time growing up, and Sam often remembered nights in motel rooms where Dean had hummed absently while rubbing a young Sammy’s back or ruffling his hair until Sam had fallen asleep. 

He hadn’t heard Dean hum peacefully since before Sam had left for Stanford. Not even after the two had met up and started hunting together. Not even after Dean, Sam and John had their final encounter with the yellow-eyed Demon and extracted their revenge for Mary and Jess. 

It kind of comforted Sam and warmed his heart to think that Dean was falling back on this softer unconscious habit of his because his body was thrumming with pregnancy hormones. Not that he would ever mention it to Dean, Sam was sentimental, not stupid.

“Hey,” Sam interrupted his memories and Dean’s tinkering by thwacking his brother on his thigh.

“Jesus!” Dean jerked and Sam could hear whatever tool it was that Dean was holding strike against the metal underside of the car loudly.

He chuckled softly as Dean tried excavating himself from under the car and gripped Dean’s thigh and pulled to help him get out.

“You tryin’ to give me a heart attack Sammy?” Dean snapped. His tone said anger, but his face said playful. 

“Nah, just wanted to get your attention.”

Dean sat up rubbed the wrench he was holding on his dirty jeans and looked up at Sam, “so what’s up?”

“Nothing,” and it was true. He had only come out to see Dean for one reason, “Bobby’s in the kitchen,” he stated plainly.

Dean’s face crinkled into a half smile, and that look appeared in Dean’s eye. That one that added that extra spark and said that Dean was about to break a rule that someone, somewhere had come up with.

The particular rule in question was the taboo that one doesn’t make out with one’s kid brother in secret while staying with their surrogate father/uncle/friend. 

Sam sat down on the gravel ground while Dean crawled into his lap, he planted his but firmly on Sam’s heels and proceeded to wrap his legs around Sam’s waist and used his legs to pull himself closer to his brother, lining the two of them up chest to chest. 

Sam ignored the grease and muck stains on Dean’s face and grabbed his jaw with both hands. He directed Dean’s lips to his in a passionate kiss as Dean snaked his arms around Sam’s back to ensure that there was absolutely no way that the two brothers would separate from one another. 

Dean allowed Sam to take lead as his tongue made passing swipes across Dean’s closed lips, and he eventually was the one humming with pleasure when Dean gave him access. 

Though the two had basically told Bobby that their intimate relationship had continued after their encounter with the succubus they hadn’t said it explicitly. The confused look on Bobby’s face when they first realized that it was in fact a succubus and not a witch when Dean had alluded to their continued relationship had shied both brothers away from saying more on the subject. 

They were okay with not telling Bobby what they were up to, and they had to find time and places to hide and make out for a few blissful minutes, but they weren’t about to do any more than that with the possibility of Bobby walking in on them when he wasn’t even fully aware of their feelings toward each other as of late. 

Sam could feel as both of their cocks pressed hard into one another. This was one of the longer times they had been together since their stay at Bobby’s, and though they still would kiss one another at night, because they still shared a bed – which Bobby was aware of, but never brought up – they never let it get heated in case they lost their minds in the heat of the moment.

Dean adjusted his arms and locked his forearms behind Sam’s neck, pulling himself even closer to Sam so that his erection pressed into Sam’s stomach and Dean’s hips had room to pump back and forth creating desperately needed friction over Sam’s cock which had taken up residence in the crease of Dean’s ass.

Sam moaned into Dean’s lips and pressed his tongue further into Dean’s mouth. 

He had to get more contact, do something. And the feel of Dean’s dick quivering against his stomach supplied the idea. 

Sam let one hand drop from Dean’s face as he felt his way down Dean’s chest until his fingers felt the waist of Dean’s jeans. He brought it around front and tried unsuccessfully to undo the button of Dean’s jeans with the one hand. 

He was determined though and pulled his other hand down hoping that two hands would make a difference. 

It didn’t. 

Dean didn’t seem to notice that Sam was fumbling, or perhaps he didn’t care, as he sucked on Sam’s lips and bit at them, thrusting his hips back and forth the whole while.

Dean didn’t seem to have trouble multitasking, but Sam was having one hell of a time with it. 

He pulled his lips and tongue clear of Dean’s hoping that he could then focus his efforts on undoing the closure of Dean’s jeans, but when Dean in turned latched his Jesus, perfect fucking, suck a golf ball through a hose lips on the sensitive and ticklish spot of Sam’s neck where it curved into his shoulder the mission he had given his hands went from difficult to literally impossible.

Sam ignored the buttons and the zipper and instead dug one hand under the tight waistband and grasped his fingers around Dean’s dick. 

Instead of the over-the-moon pleasurable sigh Sam had kind of hoped for, Dean only chuckled darkly against Sam’s neck. 

“You havin’ some trouble there Sammy?” 

He could feel the smile on his brother’s lips. So he had noticed what he had been attempting to do, and instead of being of assistance he was just making Sam’s life more difficult. Figures.

Dean latched back onto the ticklish spot of Sam’s neck that he knew all too well. After all, he had been the one to find it when they were kids when during one of their wrestling matches Dean had decided to torture his younger brother by tickling him into hysterics. 

He could still remember the satisfaction and warmth he felt as Sam’s high pitched childish giggles reached him when he found the spot. Sam’s shoulders bunched up in an effort to dislodge Dean’s hands, but instead he had only dug in harder trying to elicit more giggles from the young boy.

Fast-forward 20 some odd years and Dean was again digging into that Sam spot on his brother’s neck, but with completely different intentions. 

Sam was moaning loudly, as his lips were unhindered, and striped furiously at Dean’s cock. Without knowing it the two brothers had altered themselves to match the pace of the other, and every time Sam’s fist curled over the mushroom head of Dean’s penis -- and made a quick rotation to evenly spread the precome that had come out -- Dean had thrust back on Sam’s prick.

They were quickly bringing each other to a release, together this time.

It wasn’t too much longer before the pace Sam had on Dean’s cock faltered and Sam’s thighs quivered underneath of Dean’s. 

“C’mon baby,” Dean breathed into Sam’s ear, “c’mon, that’s it baby,” he cooed repeatedly into his brother’s ear. 

Sam’s hand had stopped working in the rhythm they had created for themselves so Dean took it upon himself to finish the both of them off. 

He started rocking back onto Sam’s dick even harder, and stuffed himself through the tight grip of Sam’s hand when he brought himself back. Sam caught onto the change and knew that Dean had taken over as he quit trying to remember if his hand was supposed to move up or down, and instead just supplied a warm and hard hand for his older brother to fuck.

“Guh, ungh,” Sam started making deep guttural sounds and Dean fucking loved the fact that he could hear the kinds of sounds Sam made as he barreled towards orgasm.

“So fucking loud baby,” Dean spoke into Sam’s ear, as he lapped up the sweat that had accumulated on Sam’s temple. It had a salty twang that reminded Dean of Sam’s come that he had tasted in the movie theatre. That thought sent a flame to Dean’s balls as he felt them tighten up.

Sam groaned even harder as he felt Dean spill out onto his fingers, and to keep from disrupting the beautiful sounds his little brother was making for him Dean latched his teeth onto the spot he had marked up on Sam’s neck and bit hard to keep from screaming out.

The unexpected pain forced Sam into his orgasm only seconds after Dean had started his own. The brothers came together moaning, spasming, and eventually whispering each other’s names as they came down from their sex induced highs. 

Dean had been nuzzling his cheek against Sam’s temple, but eventually pulled away when one of Sam’s large hands was pushing against his chest. 

He looked down wondering why Sam was moving him away when the sight of Sam’s other hand caught his attention. It was still covered in Dean’s come and Sam was admiring it with almost academic curiosity. 

Before Dean could ask, Sam popped two of his fingers into his mouth and sucked of the come he found there.

Sam kept licking and sucking at his own hand until he felt Dean’s eyes on him. His cheeks flushed and he slowly removed his now exceptionally clean fingers from between his lips, “what?” he asked innocently, licking his lips like a kid does when they’re savoring the lingering flavor of a sucker. 

“Nothing,” Dean grabbed Sam’s wrist and sucked on the fingers that had just been in Sam’s mouth, still glistening in his saliva. 

Dean sucked and pulled on Sam’s fingers, tasting himself in the remains of Sam’s spit-laden fingers, and decided to seek out the source, forcing his lips and tongue upon Sam’s and licking around the cavern of his brother’s mouth, trying to find trace evidence of his own come. 

“Mm-okay,” Sam breathed pulling Dean off again, “we gotta talk to Bobby.”

“For what?” Dean snapped. Not that he didn’t like the older man, but the dude’s name was kind of a mood killer.

“If we’re going to keep doing this,” Sam’s hand gestured to how Dean was situated on his lap, “then we really can’t stay shacked up with him.”

Dean plunked his hands on Sam’s shoulders and leaned back. “You’re right, if he walked in on us doing -- well, anything – then he’s going to croak out after a heart attack.”

“Yeah, I tried talking to him earlier about leaving but he wouldn’t hear of it,” Sam sighed in disappointment. It wasn’t like he was some horny teenager who needed to jump his brother day and night, but ever since this whole thing started with Dean he felt really attracted to him, and he knew Dean felt the same way. 

He didn’t want a new place so that they could become nudists who fucked like rabbits, but Sam was physically attracted to Dean, and a grown man really shouldn’t have to put up with blue balls if he doesn’t have to.

“Wait, you want to leave?” Dean asked as if Sam had said something ridiculous.

“Well, yeah,” Sam was extracting himself from his thoughts; “I thought we had just agreed that that was something we wanted to do.”

“We don’t have to leave Sammy.”

“We don’t?”

“No, I mean, we can leave the house, sure. But we don’t have to leave the property.”

Sam didn’t look like he knew what Dean was trying to convey. 

“We can buy a trailer, or an old RV or something and park it out back. We’d have privacy from Bobby but be close enough for help and dinner,” Dean smiled. 

Sam’s lips pulled down into his classical frown that could mean a lot of things. Right now it wasn’t a bitchface or disapproval, it was contemplation.

“That could work,” Sam admitted nodding his head, “as long as it wasn’t crummy.”

“And that’s what makes you the girl,” Dean laughed as he stood up from Sam’s lap and looked down to the discernible splotches on his shirt and jeans. 

He took a few steps away from Sam and saw a similar wet spot in Sam’s pants. 

“Look on the bright side,” Dean spoke as he offered a hand to help Sam stand.

“What’s that?”

“If we had our own place we wouldn’t have to sneak by Bobby and hide our crotches all the time.”

Sam looked down at Dean’s words and groaned. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

They made their way to the front of the house and were able to dodge Bobby as they scampered up the stairs and into their room. It was still early but they quickly undressed and pulled on sweats in order to go to bed. 

Dean had made himself comfortable under the covers when his stomach made a resonating growl. He looked up to Sam with a mock pout to see his brother had heard Dean’s stomach.

Sam smiled as he finished pulling his sweats on, commando, and started pulling a shirt on as he walked out the bedroom door to fetch his and Dean’s now cold bowls of stew.

Dean grabbed Sam’s spare pillow and added it to the two he was already resting up against. it was weird, he and Sam had been arguing with each other for years, and on issues that were so pointless, like what greasy armpit of a diner to stop at for food, or what cassette of Dean’s to listen to next, and the result of that arguing more often than not led to the two of them ignoring the other one for hours until necessity dictated that they had to speak to one another. 

But now, all Dean had to do was get his little brother off and it seemed like he could convince him into anything. 

There were many reasons that Dean was okay with this new turn to his and Sam’s relationship. For one, he loved Sam, plain and simple. Two, it really was convenient for Dean because he didn’t have to try and score with waitresses and bar chicks to fulfill his carnal needs from now on. 

But the fact that he could use sex for harmless manipulation? Totally worth entering into a homosexual incestuous relationship with his brother.


	7. Baby Belly and Bobby

Sam leaned up against the counter in the kitchen, sipping away at a steaming cup of black tea. Bobby’s home had turned into a coffee-free zone, because if Dean – the black sludge, coffee drinking, caffeine addicted, five cups-a-day-drinker of Columbia’s finest, or whatever the grease pit diner of the day considered coffee – had to give up the stuff, then damnit, Sam and Bobby were forced into suffering as well. 

Sam was hardly suffering though. He watched on with silent contentment as Dean sipped at his _“green tea with a lemon wedge, please?”_ beverage that replaced his morning coffee and ate a pleasantly balanced breakfast. Whole wheat toast, no butter, and an egg-white only omelet with mushrooms. No bacon or sausage on the side. 

He smirked to himself as he brought the mug back up to his lips. 

Dean had gracefully entered into his second trimester only last week and finally started showing. Not that anyone other than himself and Dean saw it. But every night and morning when Dean removed his shirt to sleep or shower Sam could see the slight curve that now adorned the normally smooth expanse of skin between his groin and his bellybutton. 

It brought Sam an endless amount of unexpected pleasure to watch as Dean slowly swelled up with his child. Even though Sam hadn’t been the one to put it there he still felt a primitive sort of pride every time he saw or felt the curve of Dean’s abdomen. 

Dean hadn’t been so happy about the current state his stomach was in. He had barely puffed out, having gained not even five pounds since the start of his pregnancy, thanks to the fact that he had been ill for practically the last two months. But the idea that he was going to get so wide around the middle that he wouldn’t be able to see his feet? His dick? He was having a hard time coming to terms with that. 

That was until Sam had expressed just how happy it made him. When his Sammy had first seen the change in Dean’s body his younger brother had laid him down in their bed and had kissed the spot for damn near an hour. 

Placing closed-mouth kisses to the skin and whispering just how much he loved the baby, Dean, both of them. Dean had propped himself up on elbows to watch Sam at first, he loved the feeling he got every time Sam whispered his love, and he felt so warm every time Sam kissed his belly that he thought you could roast a marshmallow on the fires of his soul. Eventually Dean had laid his head back on the pillows and brushed his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam’s neck, his eyes closed and Sam could have swore that Dean purred at one point. Or perhaps it was his low, drawn out, breathy moan/sighs that he breathed as Sam continued his actions?

When Sam was done making it thoroughly known just how much he loved Dean and their child he had simply held Dean and kissed him until the two brothers had fallen asleep. 

Dean had woken up the next morning securely wrapped in Sam’s never ending arms. Their lips barely an inch apart and his lower belly tingled with phantom kisses from the night before. He had decided that a baby belly wasn’t something he would ever complain about again.

Sam licked his lips and turned to look out the kitchen window above the sink. Bobby was out in his shed, tinkering with a beat up old wreck from the lot. Trying to pry out some rusted piece of something-or-other so he could Frankenstein one of his other wrecks back into decent shape. 

He placed his mug on the counter and walked over to Dean, who was ignoring his younger brother in favor of reading through a baby book he had insisted Sam pick up for him. This was the same book that had encouraged Dean to change his diet and caffeine intake for the duration of his pregnancy. 

Sam got down on his knees and crawled under the table, shoving his long legs between the legs of the chair Dean was in and pulling himself so his face was in Dean’s crotch. 

Dean only smiled at what Sam was doing. His brother had been getting bolder the last few days, not content with only looking at Dean and snuggling the curve in Dean’s belly at night, Sam had been sneaking caresses throughout the day whenever Bobby wasn’t around. 

He felt as Sam scooted closer to him and placed his arms on Dean’s thighs. Hands on Dean’s hips as he brought his face up to nuzzle the skin through the fabric of his shirt, Sam sighed at the contact. It was exactly what he needed. 

The hand Dean had over his pregnancy book came down to absently comb through Sam’s hair and the brother’s continued with their activities in silence. 

Every so often Dean’s hand would leave Sam’s head to turn a page in his book, and Sam, who had placed his cheek and ear to Dean’s belly, listened to the sound of Dean eating and swallowing his breakfast. 

_Feeding our child._ He thought to himself. 

The two were so relaxed with the situation that neither brother heard Bobby’s steps on the back porch, or when he opened the back door, or when he walked into the kitchen. They were completely unaware of Bobby’s presence until the older hunter stumbled upon the sight of Sam under the table, head in Dean’s crotch and Dean smiling like a fool.

“What in the hell?” Bobby shouted. 

The plate Dean had been slowly eating from bounced from the table’s surface as Sam’s head shot up and hit the table. 

-“Ow.”  
-“Bobby!”

Dean’s eyes latched onto Bobby’s and he was only half aware of Sam scrambling out from under the table to stare at the older man as well.

Sam stood, more awkward looking than the scrawny bean-pole of a teenager he had been years ago; arms useless at his side as he shifted on lead legs next to Dean, whose normally wide eyes were full blown puppy eyes staring back at him. 

Dean’s face remained the same, wide open and shocked, but he managed to stand from the chair and put himself an inch or two in front of Sam, between Sam and Bobby.

In an instant Bobby recognized the stances the boys took. They looked exactly as they had as kids whenever they were preparing for a lecture or a beating from John. Bobby had to pause in his confusion as the twenty year old adults in front of him were reduced to a four and eight year old in a painful second, and then back to themselves again.

“Bobby, we can explain –,” Dean began but got no further.

“Boys,” Bobby spoke and he watched as Sam’s lower lip quivered and Dean’s hand latched onto his brother’s wrist. “I ain’t mad at you boys, just needin’ an explaining is all.”

Sam looked at Bobby from under the long hair that dangled in front of his eyes. Somehow the boy could hide himself behind Dean, despite being a few inches taller than his big brother.

“I’m guessin’ this all started --.”

“In Salt Lake City,” Dean quietly finished for him. 

Bobby nodded and decided to set the atmosphere for the discussion. He headed to the fridge and pulled out a beer, which is what he had originally been after, and headed to sit down at his desk in the living room, fully expecting the boys to follow. 

He wasn’t disappointed when he turned around to sit at his desk to see that Dean and Sam had followed. Dean was leading Sam by his hand, Sam’s head had dropped back down to stare at the floor and Dean’s jaw had set.

Bobby sighed and popped the top off of the bottle, taking a deep swig before setting the bottle down on the cluttered desktop and staring back at his boys. And yes, Bobby did think of the Winchester brothers as his boys. John be damned, Sam and Dean were his. 

“Sam stop looking at the floorboards, you’re goin’tah hurt your neck boy. And Dean, sit your ass down on the couch. I know you’re more tired than you’re letting on. I don’t want you fainting on me and Sam. Okay?” 

Bobby watched as his unexpected words worked to calm the brothers. Sam looked up timidly to Bobby as Dean pulled them over to the couch. They arranged themselves neatly so that Dean still loomed over Sam, whose chest leaned into Dean’s back, the lower half of his face pressed into his big brother’s shoulder. Dean reached over with his left hand and grabbed Sam’s furthest knee, shielding Sam’s body from Bobby’s view. 

It broke his heart to watch as they fell into defensive positions to protect themselves from him. He didn’t know what was going on, he had his suspicions, but he sure as hell didn’t want to upset the younger men.

“Boys. I already told you, I ain’t mad,” Bobby kept his voice low, he didn’t want to sound intimidating by using a louder volume. “But you can’t blame me for being a bit shocked, and curious,” he added.

Dean only stared at him with a calculating eye, and Sam peered over Dean’s shoulder with his wide puppy eyes. The four and eight year olds were back, waiting for their punishment. Bobby decided to try a new tactic.

He got up and moved from behind his desk. Dean pushed Sam back further into the cushions as Bobby approached, but he ignored it. 

How many times had he seen Dean put himself between Sam and an enraged John over the years? 

Bobby kneeled on the hard floor, ignoring the discomfort in his knee as he placed a calming hand on the touching knees of the brothers. 

“Boys,” Bobby began again, hoping he could get them to talk, “just tell me what’s going on.”

“Don’t hate us.”

“What?” He had barely heard Sam’s words from behind Dean.

“Don’t hate us,” Sam spoke louder. 

“And why would I hate you?”

“Because Bobby,” Dean took it upon himself to admit the big secret to their friend and surrogate father. “Our relationship didn’t end in Salt Lake. There was a hiccup right after we killed the incubus. When we were finally clear of the sex hormones, but we were too content with what we had. It continued.” 

Bobby nodded. It didn’t surprise him that the two had found enjoyment in the feelings that had been forced on them by the incubus. Sam and Dean were two people with a rare amount of room and energy to devote to love, and yet they had no one but each other to give that love to. Was it really that hard to believe that they would decide to give to that love to each other? Especially if it felt right?

“Alright,” Bobby’s voice was quiet. He wanted to let them know he was still with them, just thinking some things through. 

He regarded them with a curious glance. “You boys physical with each other?”

Sam’s face went red and Dean shrugged. 

He decided to be more specific. “I’m assuming there’s some kind of – embracing – of some sort from what I saw,” Bobby couldn’t bring himself to say the word _cuddle_ out loud.

Dean nodded. 

“Kissin’?”

Another nod. 

Bobby swallowed. “Anything above that?”

Dean and Sam both shook their heads.

Bobby sighed in relief. “Alright.” He stood up and thought for a few more moments, going back to his desk and grabbing his beer. “I ain’t got no problem with this boys. You understand?”

Both heads nodded. 

“You’re both adults. You’re allowed to make your own choices. But I got a few rules I want ya’ll to follow. What you are doing right now,” he swung his beer to the couch and the way the boys were arranged on it. “Fine. Holding hands? Fine. Kissin’ on the cheek? Okay. But.” he held a firm hand up, “I don’t want to catch no making out, no intimate embraces, and Sam?”

Sam’s eyes widened as he was addressed individually.

“If you want to press your face to Dean’s belly I would prefer if you kept that to your room,” Bobby drank from the bottle as Sam nodded. 

“Dean?”

“Yeah Bobby?” 

“Grab your keys. We’re going to go out and find a trailer for you two idjits to park in the salvage lot.” He drained his beer. “Just because I’m fine with the two of you being together don’t mean that I want to hear it.”

“But, Bobby, we haven’t --,” Dean tried to correct him.

“Yeah, like I believe that Dean.”

“He’s right Bobby. We haven’t,” Sam spoke up. 

Bobby frowned in thought, “well I’ll be damned, looks like you’re making an honest man out of your brother there Sam.”

Sam smiled and Dean laughed softly at Bobby’s making light of the situation.

“Now c’mon Dean. There are a few places I want to check out before the end of the day,” Bobby made to enter the kitchen as he heard movement from the couch. 

Two sets of arms wrapped themselves around Bobby as he found himself being hugged from both sides. 

-“Thanks, Bobby.”  
-“This means so much.”

Bobby patted the parts of Sam and Dean he could reach as they lowered their heads to fully capture Bobby in their embrace.

He had hoped that the group hug would end quickly, but when Bobby went to dislodge himself he felt Sam only tighten his arms around him some more, so he abandoned the idea of removing himself and simply found a way to get an arm around each of one of his boys.


	8. Sex and Intimacy

Dean and Bobby had spent the next two days after the ‘belly fiasco’ searching for a suitable trailer for Sam and Dean to park in the back of the salvage lot. Sam was a bit apprehensive at sending the two men out by themselves to look for the place that he and Dean would be living in, not because he didn’t think that they wouldn’t find something, but because he feared their level of confidence at how well they would be able to fix up whatever they found. 

Sam had wanted to go with Dean and Bobby to look at trailers, but the three men had sat down and had a serious conversation. It wouldn’t do for them to sit around a twiddle their thumbs until the baby came, and so they had to come up with some long term plans. 

Dean was still tired as hell most of the time, but helped Bobby tinker around in the salvage yard, so Dean was going to assist Bobby in some things that the older man needed to get done. So Sam had driven into town and put his application in at the library at the community college, hoping to find at least a part-time job to sock money away for when the baby came, and any additional expenses that popped up until then.

Fortunately for Sam he didn’t have to wait too long to find out if he got the job, later that night while the three men were eating dinner and watching a John Wayne movie Sam’s cell rang, it was the elderly work-a-holic librarian asking Sam to come in the next morning, if possible, for an interview.

The interview had gone well and Sam left with a new job, which he would start the next week. Sam stopped at a deli in town and picked up some sandwiches for lunch before heading back over to Bobby’s. 

When he entered the house it was to find Bobby at his desk, pouring over his ancient tomes as usual, and Dean was snoozing away on the couch, both hands placed over the barely there swell of his belly.

“Hey,” Sam kept his voice quiet as he walked into the room, “thought you guys were out looking for a trailer?”

Sam paused and dug through the plastic bag he was holding to retrieve Bobby’s sandwich.

“Were,” Bobby leaned back in the chair and stretched, he nodded his thanks when Sam handed a foil-wrapped sandwich over, “Dean an’ I found one that we think’ll work, but he wanted to talk to you about it first.”

Bobby had unwrapped his sub and started taking huge bites which caused globs of mayo to escape onto his beard.

Sam went over to the couch and gently shook Dean awake.

“Mmmm – go ‘way,” Dean grumbled before turning to face the back of the couch.

“I have food,” Sam said simply.

Dean perked at that. “Food?”

“Yep.”

Sam walked into the kitchen and pulled out two plates. He deposited Dean’s sandwich on one and his on the other before digging out a knife and cutting through the foil and slicing the subs in half. 

He opened the pantry and dug out a half eaten bag of potato chips and put a handful on Dean’s plate and turned around and placed it on the table. 

Dean shuffled into the kitchen, literally dragging his feet, and he fell into the chair before dropping his shoulders and shoving a handful of chips into his mouth.

Sam opened the fridge and poured a glass of milk out for Dean, placing it next to his brother’s plate, before making himself a small salad to go with his lunch.

Half of Dean’s plate was gone before Sam had the chance to sit down.

“So Bobby tells me you found a trailer?” Sam questioned.

Dean nodded around a mouthful of food, “S’a keeper Sam.”

“Tell me about it.”

Dean swallowed and took a sip of his milk. “It’s a bit older, but it’s big. Two bedrooms, a clean bathroom,” Dean leaned forward, “with a Jacuzzi tub. Can you believe that?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “what else?”

Dean frowned at Sam’s lack of enthusiasm.

“The kitchen ain’t bad. There’s no stove,” Dean shrugged, “but I figured that wouldn’t be a problem. The linoleum in the kitchen sucks though. We’d definitely have to replace it, but that won’t be too bad.”

Dean took another large bite out of his sub. “It’s a hell of a lot better condition than most of the places we lived in growing up,” Dean chewed quickly and swallowed before taking a final bite of his sandwich. “Even has air.”

“Like a window unit?”

Dean shook his head, “real thing.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted at that. “Are we going to be able to afford that Dean?”

“On yer own? Probably not.”

Sam looked up as Bobby made his way to the fridge for a beer.

“Bobby?”

The older man twisted the cap off of his beer and drank. “What?”

“What did you do?”

“I ain’t done nothin’ yet, but if you boys decide you like it then I’m willing to help out.”

“Bobby, that’s very generous of you, but we couldn’t --.”

“You’re damn right you could,” Bobby interrupted him, “if you two idjits are going to park your asses outside of my house then damnit I’m going to make sure that the roof over your heads is in decent condition.”

Bobby took another pull from his beer and pushed off of the counter he had leaned up against, “Dean was going to take you out to see the trailer tomorrow. If you like it and I’m guessin’ that you will, then we’re moving it out here for you to live in.” Bobby spoke with a tone of finality and left the kitchen. Discussion over.

Sam looked at Dean and frowned. 

Dean hadn’t spoken and now Sam saw why, his brother was eyeing the second half of Sam’s sub with envy. 

Normally Sam would tell his brother to shove off, but with how hungry Dean was all the time thanks to the pregnancy he couldn’t help but slide the plate over to Dean, who beamed with a smile before digging in to the remainder of Sam’s lunch. 

*****

The next day Dean drove Sam out to where he and Bobby had found the trailer. It was about two hours north of Sioux Falls. Dean refused to allow Sam to drive on their way up to see the trailer, even though he hadn’t slept well the night before and his back was sore. 

It was the first time Sam and Dean had been alone together for about a month. Staying at Bobby’s was nice, but even in the privacy of the spare bedroom they couldn’t completely shake the feeling of him being in the room, especially given the fact that the spare bedroom was decorated just like the rest of the house and that the spare sheets smelled just like him, just mustier.

So it was really nice for the two brothers to be out for a change and even though it was killing Dean’s back he took his time driving Sam out to see the trailer.

The trailer was being sold by a young couple in their 30’s. The woman’s father had been a ‘collector of unique items’, which didn’t have anybody fooled. The man was a junk hoarder, just like Bobby Singer was a car hoarder. 

A few weeks prior the woman’s father had died of a heart attack and in order to get some of the mess cleaned up they were selling anything that people were willing to buy. 

Sam was surprised at the condition that the trailer was in, given the state of some of the cars he had seen on their approach he wasn’t expecting it to be in any livable condition whatsoever, but honestly Dean was right, it was much better than some of the places they had lived in growing up. 

He gave his final approval and then it was up to Dean and Bobby to get the plans together to haul their purchase to Bobby’s. 

Throughout their tour of the junk yard Dean had been clutching at his back and yawning behind his hand when he thought Sam wasn’t looking. But yet again, Dean had insisted on driving them home.

Half an hour into the return trip home and Sam had enough. 

“Dean pull over.”

“Why?”

“Because you look miserable over there,” Sam said waving his hand at Dean’s side of the seat. 

“I’m fine.”

“Right, that’s why you look like you haven’t slept in a week and you wince every time a bump in the road hits your back.”

Dean could only frown.

“Can you pull over so that I can drive?”

“No Sam, I’m not letting you drive.”

“Can we at least stop at a motel or something then?”

A grin broke out over Dean’s face as Sam said those words, it was as if he had been waiting all day for Sam to make the suggestion of stopping at a motel, and perhaps he had.

Sam had guessed that that’s what Dean had been waiting for all along because as soon as he had said it Dean’s yawning had stopped and he no longer winced whenever a bump jostled his back.

He could have called Dean out on it, but Sam would be lying if he said that he didn’t want to spend the night at a motel. 

Bobby was a great guy. He really was. But the grisly bearded old man really did act as a mood breaker with his snoring or droning voice over the phone whenever a hunter called him at night. 

Now that Bobby knew the nature of their relationship Sam and Dean were wondering how things would change between the three of them. Sam was curious if it would give him the confidence to do little things, like sit closer to Dean on the couch, or steal small caresses of Dean’s baby bump. But there were really no changes, privately or publicly.

There was a mutual unspoken agreement between the two brothers that Bobby would never know they had already done things other than the kissing that Bobby had asked about. During Bobby’s questioning in the ‘belly fiasco’ neither brother wanted to allude to the fact that they had done more, the blow job and rubbing off on one another in the salvage yard didn’t count. They had only kissed and nothing more…as far as Bobby knew.

In reality Dean had been itching to get another chance to get at Sam. Making out until they fell asleep at night wasn’t going to satisfy him for much longer. He was swimming in pregnancy hormones and while a majority of the time they made him cranky, tired and hungry, there was a small percentage of Dean’s day spent where he was hard and aching for Sam in the worst way.

He knew that things would improve for their physical relationship once they got a space that they could claim as theirs, but until then Dean needed a Sam appetizer of some kind. 

Dean pulled the impala into the first available motel that had a vacancy sign showing. He had the car off and was out his door before Sam could even begin to unfold himself from the passenger seat. 

As Dean jogged to the front desk Sam made himself useful by removing their emergency bag from the trunk. They hadn’t planned on making a stop during their trip to see the trailer, but their lifestyle as hunters always had them planning for the unexpected. 

If the weight of the ‘emergency’ bag was any indication this pit stop wasn’t as unexpected for Dean as it was for Sam.

Dean came out of the office a few minutes later, grinning and holding up a room key, “we’re in two.”

Dean unlocked the door and held it open for Sam to walk through and Sam immediately side-stepped the ambush Dean had prepared for him when his back was to the door. 

“Dean.”

“Aw, c’mon Sam!” Dean flapped his arms and sighed, looking about the motel room. “I wouldn’t ‘ve paid for a damn room if I knew I wasn’t going to get anything out of it!”

If it would have been anyone else talking Sam would have pointed out the whining tone, but since it was Dean he ignored it.

“Dean, how does your back feel?” Sam dumped the duffel on the bed closest to the door and turned to face his brother, who really was starting to pout. 

“It’s fine.”

“Dean.”

“It’s fine!”

“Dean tell me the truth or so help me you’ll be sleeping in that trailer by yourself when we get it!” 

Dean sighed, though it sounded suspiciously like a growl. “Stiff,” he mumbled out.

“Lower back?”

“Yeah.”

Sam walked over to his brother and reached around to knead his fingers over the muscles at his lower back.

Dean remained tense and stood still, though his eyes did close.

Sam worked his fingers in slow moving circles, moving the hands down toward the waistband of Dean’s jeans, and then up to his mid back. The pressure of his fingers rocked Dean’s whole body, back and forth barely an inch.

After a few minutes Dean’s lungs deflated and he dropped his head right over Sam’s heart. Sam only smiled and pressed his lips into Dean’s hair.

Sam continued moving his fingers along Dean’s back, taking as much pleasure from the act of soothing Dean’s sore muscles that Dean got from Sam by removing the tension.

Dean reached up and placed his hands on Sam’s sides, holding onto his taller frame to steady himself.

Sam slowly bunched Dean’s shirt around his wrists so that he could continue his massage with skin on skin. When his large warm hands found the sore spots on Dean’s back he began to moan, so softly and sweet into Sam’s chest. He felt the vibrations of Dean’s moans more than he heard them.

Sam began dipping his fingers below the waistline of Dean’s jeans, seeking out the firm globes of his ass, and while he thought the sensation of his fingers would get Dean worked up they had the opposite effect. 

He began sliding his hand down to grasp Dean’s left ass cheek for the third time when Dean crumpled and started to fold in on himself. Sam panicked and had to grab on to what he was holding of Dean, which happened to be his ass and mid back. 

“Holy shit!”

“Mmph,” Dean’s head wobbled on his shoulders.

“Did you fall asleep on me?” Sam asked amused.

“F’lt good,” Dean wiped at his eyes.

Sam chuckled and helped maneuver Dean onto the bed furthest from the door. 

“Let’s get your clothes off.”

“That’s what ‘m talkin’ ‘bout Sammy,” Dean’s eyes were closed as he undid his belt and unsuccessfully tried kicking off his boots.

“Here, let me.”

Sam undid the laces of Dean’s boots and struggled to remove it, because Dean’s leg suddenly felt like it was filled with wet concrete. He peeled the sock off of Dean’s right leg and proceeded to stick his tongue out and use it to tickle the sensitive skin that made up the arch of his foot. 

He made a small swipe over Dean’s foot that made to jerk away from Sam who gripped tighter around Dean’s ankle. 

Sam did it again, slower this time.

“ _Sam!_ ”

He looked down to his brother whose hands were fisted in the sheets.

“Yeah?” Sam asked feigning confusion before licking Dean’s foot again.

“Guh, uh, what-what are you doing?” 

He shrugged even though Dean wasn’t looking, “just playing.”

Another lick.

“You want me to stop?” Sam ran his tongue in circles around the ball of Dean’s foot.

Dean’s toes clenched and wiggled.

“Nnnnoooo.”

Sam smirked and continued to lick his way across the skin at the bottom of Dean’s foot. He made broad, flat strokes over the arch, heel and ball of Dean’s foot. And kitten licked the pads of Dean’s toes. Sucking them into his mouth at random and making unnecessary popping noises as he released them.

He made his tongue into a point and caressed the soft webbing between the toes and hummed in satisfaction at the salty taste, which should have been disgusting, yet Sam couldn’t help but love it.

Perhaps it was because he was doing it with Dean, like the fact that they were two brothers, or at least two people who desperately cared for one another made everything they did together seem right. Pure. As if no being could pass judgment on them for what they liked doing. 

Or perhaps Sam was thinking too far into the fact that he enjoyed sticking his tongue between Dean’s sweaty toes. 

Dean was wriggling on the bed; his jeans and boxers had slid down a few inches and revealed the trail of hairs that led to Dean’s groin. His hips jerked whenever Sam did something with his tongue that Dean hadn’t expected, and throughout Sam’s playful torture Dean was either groaning or babbling.

“ _Oh Sam. Oh God. Please._ Shit! _Oh fuckfuckfuck. Oh my Go-uuuurrrrrrmmmmm – FUCK! Feels good!_

Dean made to reach for his cock inside his boxers but Sam halted him.

“Uh uh, you’re not touching yourself.”

“Sam!” Dean’s hand fell back against the mattress hard.

“Let me finish, I’ll get to that.”

“But you still have another foot!” Dean whined.

“Then get comfy,” Sam reached forward and smashed a pillow into Dean’s face.

Dean whipped the pillow from his head and shoved it roughly under his shoulders, adjusting himself until he was settled. 

“You good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

With a kiss to the arch Sam gently placed Dean’s leg on the bed, running his hands up the length of Dean’s shin underneath the jeans, curving around his knee, and running back down over his calves.

Dean sighed and relaxed at the soft affectionate touches.

Sam smirked at the effect he was having on Dean.

He then turned his attention to Dean’s other leg.

“Oh fuck me,” Dean groaned out as Sam loosened the laces on the second boot.

“That’s the idea,” came the quick reply.

Both brothers shared a chuckle at that.

Sam took the boot and sock off in one move and soon was back to torturing Dean with his tongue.

“Shit Sam!” Dean threw an arm over his eyes, “you got a foot kink or something?”

“Nah, s’just fun.”

When Sam felt like Dean’s foot had received its fair share of attention Sam placed his leg back on the bed. 

Dean’s cock twitched in his boxers and Sam’s eyes landed on the bulge.

“C’mon Sammy.”

Sam chewed his lip but shed the button up he was wearing before crawling on the bed and straddling Dean’s legs.

Dean still had his arm over his eyes, but looked up at Sam when he felt his brother hesitate in what to do next.

“Sam?” Dean removed his arm, “what’s wrong?”

Sam sighed and slid off of Dean so they were shoulder to shoulder on the bed.

“It’s just-,” he shook his head and swept his hand through his hair.

“What Sammy?” Dean reached over and grabbed his hand, playing with his fingers.

“Don’t you think that,” Sam snorted, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this to my brother,” a deep breath, “Aren’t we taking things a little quickly here?”

Dean licked his bottom lip and nodded, “I forgot about who I was in a relationship with for a second there.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sammy, you’ve always been the one to move slow when it comes to a person you like. That’s why it took so long for you to lose your virginity.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’m with you, the boy who handed his innocence to a woman nearly twice his age before he started high school.”

Dean smiled like Sam was handing him a prize.

“Seriously though Dean,” Sam pressed.

“Honestly Sam?” Dean locked their eyes, “No. I don’t feel like we’re rushing things.” He sat up and groaned a bit as the fabric of his boxers shifted over his blood filled dick. 

“I mean, I don’t really know what the rules are for engaging in a sexual relationship with one’s own brother, but to me everything feels like it’s moving at a pretty good pace.”

“I mean, we haven’t even had sex yet,” he stuck his thumb out as he began counting off, “I’ve sucked you off once, we’ve held hands and – laid in bed together,” he refused to use the word cuddle, “and we’ve rubbed off on one another once.”

Sam’s face flushed red at Dean voicing out everything they had done. 

“That doesn’t really strike _me_ as moving too fast.”

“No, I – I know.”

“Did you want to stop everything we’ve been doing?” Dean asked when it looked like Sam was trying to say something.

“No, I just – Dean,” Sam sat up and removed his hand from Dean’s to rub at his eyes.

“Sam, what’s bothering you man?”

“I’m not ready to have sex with you,” Sam held his hands up like he needed to defend himself and Dean couldn’t help but notice that they were shaking.

“Is that what’s been bothering you Sam? You think you have to sleep with me?”

“Well I feel like you at least _want_ to,” he corrected.

“You’re damn right I _want_ to,” Dean locked eyes with Sam and smiled, “but you don’t Sam, that’s why I haven’t pushed it,” at this point Dean’s erection was gone.

“Then what are we doing here Dean?” Sam indicated to the bed and motel room.

“Sucking face in privacy,” Dean answered quickly and easily.

Sam only had a bitchface in response. 

“Sam, I’m serious here. You’re not ready for sex, so we’re not going to do it. But we can do everything up until that point right?” Dean was unsure of himself now. He really wanted to keep playing around with Sam, but if his little brother said that something was off the table, then Dean would keep it off the table. 

“Yeah, we can do everything else I just wanted to make sure that you weren’t expecting something from me that I wasn’t ready for yet,” Sam reached out and the brothers adjusted so that Dean was situated between Sam’s legs, his back to Sam’s chest.

Dean chuckled and Sam loved the warm vibrations that spread from Dean’s body into his.

“What?”

“For not wanting to have sex you’re a pretty good fucking cocktease.”

Sam smiled but refused to laugh, deciding to instead drop his lips to Dean’s shoulder, kissing the skin he found there and rubbing Dean’s soft neck with his stubbly cheek. 

“You’re mistaking intimacy with sex Dean.”

Sam kept running his lips and nose along the sensitive skin of Dean’s neck. He wound his arms underneath of Dean’s and secured one around his chest, and the other came down to cup Dean’s baby bump.

He nosed at the soft whisps of hair at the back of Dean’s neck and Dean allowed his head to relax and fall onto Sam’s shoulder.

With every pass of his lips, tongue, nose or teeth along Dean’s skin he wound his arm tighter across Dean’s chest and used his legs to pull Dean closer to him. 

Dean reached up and held onto the forearm and wrist of Sam’s arm across his chest, letting Sam do what he will.

Soon the brothers were in a tight cocoon made up of Sam’s arms and legs, protecting his brother and their unborn child with all of the strength and love he could muster.

Eventually Sam was able to produce tiny shivers and breathy whispered moans from Dean and used his own head to nudge Dean’s to the other side so he could continue kissing, licking and nipping at Dean’s other shoulder.

Sam’s movements were so soft and slow. There was no rush that he felt, or immediate sense of fulfillment that he sought. His only goal was to extend this moment of love and intimacy as far as he possibly could. To show Dean the depths of his love for him, the extent of his patient desire for Dean, how he too would do whatever was necessary to take care of his older brother; someone who rarely sought comfort, but was always there to offer it when needed.

While Sam’s lips worked their patient dance over Dean’s shoulders the hand that he had curved around Dean’s lower abdomen was keeping up a gentle stroking rhythm, never straying too far down, just barely tickling the hairs that continued down to the base of Dean’s cock. Just stroking, teasing. 

Soon however, Sam’s movements weren’t enough for Dean, whose pregnancy hormones were demanding that Dean get Sam to touch him _there_ , and like right freaking now.

Dean didn’t have to ask, not verbally anyway, he was able to communicate his needs to Sam with just his body. The quick and subtle jerk to his hips and clenching of his hands told Sam everything he needed to know. 

And Sam answered Dean’s need with as much gentle carefulness that one uses when dealing with something precious and fleeting, his hand approached Dean’s cock like one would when trying to capture a soap bubble. 

His movements were so sure and confident, yet soothing that when his large hand finally wrapped around Dean he momentarily forgot where he was. Dean was no longer ensconced in his brother’s hold; he was somewhere much warmer and safer. He was somewhere where he felt safe letting go and becoming vulnerable. Bearing himself to someone who cared, who was going to stick it out with him. He was with Sammy.

Even when he started his steady stroking of Dean’s cock Sam didn’t speed up. He kept his movements slow and sure. His heart was racing and his own aching hard on was pressed against Dean’s back, but now wasn’t a time for release. 

Dean had spent his whole life mixing up sex and intimacy, and Sam was here to teach him the difference. 

It took a long time with his painfully slow movements, but it was oh-so-freaking worth it. Dean’s body was soon trembling with every upstroke and down stroke, his hands so tight on Sam’s arm that his hand was numb. 

Sam had to press his thighs as tight as possible around Dean’s body to keep him from bucking off of the bed and still all he was getting from Dean were those delicious breathy moans. No harsh noises or whispered profanities to ruin the delicacy of the moment. 

When Dean finally came, it was a climax that neither of them expected. White spurts made their way across Dean’s chest and Sam’s arm and the sob that accompanied it had Sam coming untouched in his jeans. 

Sam stroked Dean until he came down from his high and pulled his hand away to clean it on the comforter. When he adjusted the two of them to lie down in the bed, because they were both beyond exhausted at this point, he found that Dean’s eyes were filled with tears.

Sam went to ask Dean what was wrong but Dean had already fallen asleep. 

He got out of the bed and turned off the light, and when he crawled back into the bed Dean shifted as close to Sam as he could get before murmuring a sleepy, “I love you Sammy.”

*****

Dean couldn’t deny it. He full on cuddled Sam the next morning.

He woke up on the motel bed feeling more relaxed than he had possibly ever been. Sam’s slow seduction the night before was like a wash cloth to his worried and stressed out mind. All he could remember thinking was that if they could hold on to the intensity of the love that he and Sam shared, that they didn’t have anything to fear. There wasn’t a goddamned thing that they couldn’t do.

So yeah. When he woke up Sam deserved a morning in-bed cuddle. 

Sam had been on the other side of the bed, sprawled out as he usually gets at night with his gargantuan limbs and Dean wanted nothing more than to extend the intimacy Sam had shown him the night before. 

He could have siddled up to Sam and become the ‘big spoon’, but that just didn’t feel right to Dean. Instead he shifted until he was lying on his side facing away from Sam, and then reached behind him to maneuver Sam’s arm across his tummy.

Still asleep Sam followed, and soon Dean was exactly where he wanted to be, curled up warm and content in Sam’s arms, hands laced together over the swell of his belly.

Dean stayed awake; enjoying the spot he had made for himself and waited for Sam to eventually wake up. 

Sam didn’t wake up quickly. He eased into consciousness that morning. He would shift, tighten his arms around Dean and make small grunting sounds that brought a smile to Dean’s face, and then take a deep breath and go back under. Then he would adjust the position of his legs, smack his lips together and mumble a few broken words, sigh, and then go still and silent again. 

It wasn’t often that Dean was able to witness the adorable pleasure that was Sam Winchester waking on his own in the mornings, but when he did he always savored it. Sam had been the same way since childhood. If left to wake of his own accord the process could take upwards of two hours, consisting of shifting body parts and making various noises. 

There was a period of time when Sam hit puberty that Dean was able to hold conversations with Sam while he was still asleep. Sam didn’t know it until years later that Dean was able to get him to talk about the dirty dreams he’d had just before he woke up, and then he would use that knowledge to torment his little brother throughout the day. 

There were many accidentally popped boners that Dean had caused his little brother to have just for the hell of it. 

That morning Sam woke up rather quickly, roughly half an hour, and much to Dean’s displeasure, and he knew the moment that he woke up too, because Sam’s arms pulled him close, he kicked his leg over Dean’s and twined them together and he grumbled out a “G’morning,” before kissing the back of Dean’s neck. 

“Mornin’,” Dean rumbled back.

Sam hummed as he continued to kiss the back of Dean’s neck, and Dean gave him a few moments before he turned in Sam’s arms and gave his brother something else to kiss.

They kissed lazily for a while; feeling the old sense of love between them which meant that neither was trying to impress the other with technique or style. Just clumsily pressing their lips and tongues together, smelling each other’s morning breath and sleep sweaty hair. 

Even though he had just woke up from a night of uninterrupted sleep the kissing eventually wore Dean out and he ducked his head under to nuzzle Sam’s throat. Sam continued kissing Dean’s forehead as he stroked his fingers through the back of Dean’s hair.

They ended up forehead to forehead somewhere between consciousness and sleep, both just content to exist in the private space they had created together for even just a short while.

After a couple of minutes the ringtone for Dean’s cell phone went off and he snaked a hand between them to get it out of his jeans pocket, because they had both fallen asleep in their jeans.

Eyes still closed Dean thumbed the phone open and pressed it to his ear. 

“Hello?”

“Dean?”

Dean’s eyes flashed open and they were looking straight into hazel orbs. Sam was close enough to the cell phone to have heard the voice on the other end.

“Dad?”

*****

Dean pushed away from Sam and scrambled out of the bed as if his dad were in the room with the two of them.

Sam frowned at Dean’s reaction but held himself in check.

“Um, dad what – uh – what’re you calling for?”

Sam knew that Dean was trying to hide it, but the panic was evident in his voice.

“You with Sam,” was thrown back at him.

Dean glanced at his younger brother waiting on the bed patiently behind him. “Yeah, of course.”

“Put me on speaker.”

Dean did so and sat on the edge of the bed, holding the phone propped out so that they both could hear what their dad had to say.

“You’re on.”

“You boys hear anything coming out of Salt Lake in the last few weeks?”

Dean gulped and shot wide eyes at Sam whose mouth had popped open into a surprised ‘O’ as he stared blankly at the phone. 

“Uh, no. Can’t say we have,” Dean said when he recovered first.

“Why do you ask?” Sam said.

“Well,” their dad heaved a sigh, “I noticed a few disappearances of couples in the area a couple weeks ago, so I went and decided to investigate.”

Dean turned to Sam, not liking the situation that they had been dumped in.

“I was able to check out one of the scenes where a couple had vanished and I found some fabric that looked like it belonged to a hex bag.”

So had they.

“Sounds like a witch to me,” Dean said.

“That’s what I thought at first, but I couldn’t shake this feeling I got about a symbol that was drawn in the corner.”

“A symbol?” Sam perked up at that. “What did it look like?”

“It was lettering of some kind,” John spoke, “part of a spell or something, and it was damned hard to figure out what it meant, but I finally figured it out.”

“And?” 

“Well, you boys know how we finally got that demon?”

“Yeah?” they spoke in unison.

“Turns out he wasn’t the only one with plans to create a demon army, and it turns out that this one is going off better than the last, cause it doesn’t involve hunting families.”

“Wait, dad, what are you talking about?” Sam asked sitting up higher in the bed to get closer to the phone.

“I’m talking about the fact that there are incubus’ topside and they’re creating cambions.”

Dean’s hand slapped protectively over his rounded stomach.

“They’re what?” he growled.

“An incubus is a sex demon…”

“I know what a damn incubus is! I meant what do you mean they’re creating a demon army out of cambions?”

“Well, like I said, it took some work. I had to call in a bit of help figuring it out, but we finally tracked down signs of demonic energy down in southern Georgia. There’s a warehouse down here crawling with low level demons. They’ve got it warded pretty well boys, but from what we’ve been able to scope out they have all of the missing couples from Salt Lake plus a few dozen more.”

“How many we talking?” Dean asked all business.

“Demons? About twenty or so. Civi’s? Roughly fifteen couples by the looks of the supplies they’ve been bringing in.”

“So what’s the plan?” Sam asked inserting himself into the conversation.

“We’re going to go in a wipe out the problem like we usually do,” John answered simply, “was wondering if you boys could come down and help, seeing as this is part of something much bigger.”

“Dad, we can’t,” Sam spoke up before Dean could get a word in. “Dean – Dean got injured on the last hunt. We’ve been staying at a motel for a few weeks and laying low while he recovers,” came the easy lie.

“Hurt? What the hell could be so wrong with Dean where you couldn’t come down here and do some work?”

“I got stabbed,” Dean forced out, not understanding why Sam wanted to lie to their father, but knowing that he had to be the one to say the lie if they wanted their father to believe it.

“We were on a hunt in Northern Illinois. Vengeful spirit. The thing got corporal before we could torch it and it threw me into a statue at the cemetery. Fucker got me in the back and cracked a rib. Tore a lot of muscle to get me down and to the hospital before they could fix it up.”

“Hospital?” John repeated the word. “How bad we talking son?”

“Nothing life threatening,” Dean said scratching at the back of his neck, uncomfortable with how easy it was to be lying to his father. 

John didn’t seem to like it. But he accepted the lie.

“And Sam?”

Sam knew the question. “You know I’d never leave Dean unprotected.”

A sigh.

“Well alright. Looks like we’re on our own.”

Then the line disconnected.

Dean stared at the phone for a while before looking to Sam.

“Want to tell me why we lied?”

Sam flopped back onto the pillows and drew in a deep breath.

“Dean, they’re investigating whatever happened back in Utah, and whatever happened there happened to us. I’m not taking you anywhere near dad while he’s looking into this because he might pick up on something.”

“That’s it?”

Sam sat up and ran a hand over his face. “No,” he said reluctantly, “I just got this bad feeling that – well – Georgia isn’t the place either of us should be right now. Especially not you.”

Dean considered that for a moment. “Alright.” He got up and started collecting his things. “But if dad gets hurt…”

“I know.”

*****

The boys made their way back to Bobby’s in comfortable silence. Dean wasn’t really mad at Sam for making him lie to their dad, and Sam knew that. They were just lost in their own thoughts as Dean drove them back to the junk yard, it didn’t keep their hands from finding one another’s while deep in their thoughts though, and they held firmly onto one another as if they were life preservers keeping them from going into their minds too deep. 

When Dean finally pulled the car up in front of Bobby’s house Sam leaned over on the seat and pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s temple, something to break them from their strange silent spell. 

Sam got out first and made sure that he grabbed their emergency bag so that Dean didn’t have anything to carry going up the steps. He might still be capable of doing things by himself – even if it were a normal kid he was having – but Sam wasn’t about to let him over work himself, even in the slightest.

Dean and Sam made their way into the kitchen where a weary looking Bobby was eating a sandwich and drinking a beer…at ten in the morning.

“Bobby,” Dean greeted the older man, “there a reason you’re turning to the hunter’s helper this early?”

Bobby sighed and washed down what he was eating with a drink from the brown bottle before him.

“Yer dad,” he said before taking another bite.

Sam winced. “Take it he called you?”

“Yeah, told me about his plans down in Georgia and I did my best to keep him from fig’ring out that we knew what was going on and, well…” he shrugged.

“And?” Dean asked.

“Well, he doesn’t know that we knew already but I didn’t know that he had called you idjits yet.”

“Son-ofa-bitch!” Dean swore before turning around and stalking down the hall.

Bobby just kept talking, knowing that the boys weren’t going to like what he had to say. 

“So when he asked what you were up to I simply said that I hadn’t heard from you guys for a few days, but last I knew you were out on a hunt in Wyoming.”

“Shit,” Sam swore and turned, running a hand through his hair about the time that Dean came walking back into the kitchen.

“After I said that he got real funny,” Bobby’s lower lip curled into his mouth as he shook his head. “I knew he realized something was up so I disconnected the line before I could make things worse.”

Dean collapsed down in a chair and massaged the back of his neck. All of this stress was going to kill him.

Sam saw how distressed his brother was, it was one thing to make his older brother lie to their father, but another to see what being caught lying to his father did to him. He stepped forward and placed steady hands at the back of Dean’s neck and shoulders. When Dean didn’t shove him off he took over rubbing the tense muscles for him.

Dean relaxed a little bit under Sam’s hands but remained hunched over.

“Well the pooch is screwed now,” he said with false calm, “I bet we hear from or see dad in a week.” He sat up and ran a hand over his face a few times. “Maybe less.”

“We need to come up with a plan,” Sam said without removing his hands from Dean. 

The other two men nodded but nothing more was said on the subject. Simple truth was there was no explaining a lie to John Winchester. You lied to him. He found out the truth. It was how it always was. And – all three men knew this for a fact too – it always had a messy end.

What they did end up doing was deferring the situation until later. Pushing it to the back burner, where though it was boiling over, it wouldn’t be seen so easily.

Sam and Dean had a late breakfast and told Bobby that they had approved of the trailer. The rest of the day was spent going over plans on how to pay for the damn thing, how they were going to move it, and where exactly they were going to put it.


	9. Not a Real Chapter

Hi guys!

I know I haven't done anything to this story since my mass chapter posting at the beginning of the year, but I don't want you guys to fret! I AM working on this story. I unfortunately didn't think this story through very much before I started posting, and I'm a little at a loss of where I want to go. But now that I have time over summer break I plan on updating this story and getting it back on track. 

I toyed with the idea of starting fresh, but I figured if I tried that then I would _never_ get it updated in time. So I'm going to do my best to come up with a story-line for my wonky first story baby.

I deeply apologize that I've ignored this story, it's my first fanfic and I feel like a bad mother for abandoning it for so long. But no worries, I will finish this story! Just wanted to let ya'll know!

 

Also, as a way to help me generate ideas/come up with fluffy future chapters, if you have an idea of something that you'd like to see, please send it in! Suggestions really help me to piece chapters together. So send in your suggestions, big or small. I could use your help!

Thank you to pieces for being awesome!


	10. Subtlety Isn't Our Forte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Lovelies!
> 
> I told you I was working on the chapter, and while that's true I will admit that I was struggling. This chapter is fairly short, but I want to try and get things back on track. 
> 
> I'm also trying to come up with a plot for the story, so I appreciate ya'll being patient with me. 
> 
> As I said before, suggestions are helpful and welcome. 
> 
> I will eventually delete my "not a real chapter" chapter nine, after some time. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks again for being awesome!

Dean was sitting out on the front porch, drinking from a mug of green tea as he waited for Sam to come home from his first shift at the library. 

It had been a few days since their fuck up with John had occurred, and so far none of the three men had heard anything from the eldest Winchester. That wasn’t to say that the days became any easier to stomach, they were all well aware of the fact that John was stewing on the information, and that they would hear from him eventually. It just hadn’t happened yet.

There was also the blessing that whatever was keeping John preoccupied was happening down south. So even if John were to wrap things up in the next few days they would at least have an extra day and a half to prepare for John’s arrival.

No, at the current moment Dean’s only concern was the fact that his heartburn was kicking in and he was bored.

They – Bobby and Sam – were still trying to come up with something for Dean to do during the day. Dean had worked off all of his frustrations with working on cars, and it had been a miracle that one hadn’t fallen on him during that time. And as his unplanned pregnancy progressed along he felt himself growing ever more round throughout the days. 

His free hand was cupped over the swell of his belly, and he rubbed the curve fondly. He wasn’t sure if it was pregnancy hormones or his own desire for family that had him day dreaming of life with a child of his own, but either way, for the last twenty minutes he had been dreaming of life with Sam, Bobby and their child. 

He sighed and took another sip of his tea.

Their trailer was due in a few hours. Working out the shipping logistics had taken some time, as well as the financing. With a down payment courtesy of Bobby and with the man cosigning a loan for the two of them he and Sammy had figured out a decent place to lay their heads at night, and Dean was more than excited to talk his little brother into christening their bathtub later that evening.

The distinct growl of the Impala’s engine reached Dean’s ears and he stood up and made his way down the front porch steps to wait patiently for his baby to turn the corner and bring Sam into view.

Dean watched on, sipping his tea, as Sam brought the car to a stop and got out before walking up to Dean and greeting him with a perfunctory kiss. 

“How was your first day honey?”

Sam snorted and pushed Dean away.

“What? Don’t you want me to make you a drink, and grab your slippers so you can tell me about your day?” Dean teased.

“Dean, no,” Sam said without any heat, “you can be weirdly pregnant all you want, but don’t go all domestic on me. It’s not right.”

Dean smiled and looped his arm around his brother’s trim waist as they walked up the steps together.

“It was good,” Sam replied, answering Dean’s question. “Lots of book work. Pretty simple stuff. Entering data, shelving books. Answering questions…”

“The family business,” Dean muttered in good nature.

They both were in good moods as they entered the house.

“So what did you do today?” Sam asked as he walked ahead of Dean into the kitchen to grab a beer – tossing Bobby a prompt head nod as he went. “You crawl under any more cars?”

“Nah, got bored of doing that,” Dean admitted, leaning against the entryway to the kitchen. “Just hung out all day, getting fat.”

Sam snorted and took a long pull from his bottle, “that true Bobby?”

The grizzled man made a half-hearted sound of affirmation before flipping to another page in the book he was reading.

Sam shrugged and turned around to pull ingredients out of the fridge and cabinets to get started on dinner. Dean joined in.

*****

A few hours later, after the dishes were soaking in the sink and Dean was nuzzling a pillow on the couch _not napping_ , Rumsfield could be heard barking outside of the house. Dean was up and alert in an instant and raced out onto the front porch before Sam or Bobby could stop him, but he could hear their footsteps clattering behind him.

Sam came out before Bobby and immediately pulled Dean into his side for protection. They watched the approaching dust cloud as an unseen vehicle kicked up dust. 

When John Winchester’s truck broke through the line of cars the trio of hunters knew that their luck – whatever good it had given them – had run out.

Bobby turned to the two brother and held out a hand, “wait here boys,” he said before stepping off the porch and making his way towards the parked truck.

Dean felt Sam tug him into a spot a few inches behind him and Dean only allowed it because Sam’s giant stature was the perfect cover for Dean’s protruding belly.

Dean couldn’t help his initial reaction to jerk when John’s door opened.

The atmosphere permeating the air when John hopped out of his truck was extremely uncomfortable. John was self trained when it came to reading people and situations, which meant he was very competent when it came to spotting an inconsistency or something amiss.

The way his eyes were focused on Dean and Sam where they stood on the front porch, turned toward each other, was extremely discomforting. Dean felt Sam's fingers tightening where they were curled around Dean's hip. 

"Dean, go inside and put on my hoodie."

Dean brushed his fingers across Sam's arm before doing just that.

He rushed inside and pulled on a hoodie that was larger on Sam, so it hid Dean's figure perfectly. His stomach wasn't totally showing yet, but their father would pick up on it in a heartbeat and push him into physical training to get rid of whatever weight he would assume that Dean had carelessly gained.

Dean slipped out the house and walked up alongside of Sam. John was still out on the gravel driveway, duffle at his feet as he talked with Bobby.

"Been a long time," Bobby states, and John dips his head in agreement. 

"Yeah, well when my boys find it necessary to lie to their own father I make it a point to find out why."

Dean flinches at that, and fights the urge to squirm away when John looks back up at the two of them. 

He bends over and grabs his bag, and starts walking up the stairs. Dean and Sam stand straighter on instinct, and their eyes lock on their father.

"Boys."

"Dad."  
"Sir."

Dean fights the urge to look away, a move that would be a dead giveaway that something was wrong. 

"We'll eat dinner first. You can explain yourselves to me after."

"Yessir." Dean's voice feels harsh. And he wishes he could find a way out.

John enters Bobby's house and leaves behind three men grasping for something to say or do.

Bobby steps up the stairs and starts following after John.

When Dean eyes the man he merely shrugs and says "dinner ain't such a bad idea."

Sam grabs his hand and pulls him inside. Though literally anywhere else on earth is where Dean would rather be.

*****

"Can't believe you don't already got a pot brewing," John complains as Bobby works to make a pot of coffee. 

"Drank through it all this morning," Bobby lied – and Sam had to hide his amusement at Bobby's grimace when he looks in the bowl where the grounds go. 

Sam could see the mold from where he sits – it seems that it really had been a while since they've made coffee, but Dean had been adamant in his no coffee ruling.

Bobby rinses the bowl out and adds a new filter before continuing with his ministrations.

Dean looks a little green when Bobby cracks the lid on the coffee grounds. Coffee had been outlawed in the house for more than one reason, as the smell made Dean nauseous. And if his current appearance were anything to go by he was still feeling it.

"So," John began, leaned back in his chair where he studied both boys with uncomfortable scrutiny.

The table was cleared of food. Dean had done his best to eat with his regular gusto, but Bobby had made burgers as per John’s request, and the grease didn't set well with Dean at all. Halfway through the meal he had excused himself to the bathroom, coming back looking flushed and sweaty. Sam and Bobby knew he had just thrown up, but Dean kept eating as if there was no problem. 

Sam had no idea how Dean was going to make it through this interrogation. 

John cleared his throat and Sam looked back up at his father. 

"You boys want to tell me why you were lying to me about this hunt?"

Like a band-aid stuck to arm hair, John has never known finesse in his approach. 

Sam sighed and leaned forward on the table. “We told you Dad, Dean was hurt.”

“Uh-huh, and Bobby said you were on a hunt in Wyoming. So what’s the real story?”

Dean cleared his throat and grabbed John’s attention.

“I asked Bobby to lie to you Dad.”

John sat up straighter in his seat. “Is that so?”

“Yes sir.”

“And why is that?”

Sam watched Dean squirming in his seat, and he scratched his eyebrow with his thumbnail. 

“I didn’t want you to know the truth.”

“And are you going to tell it to me now?”

“Might as well,” was Dean’s murmured response.

Sam felt the tension rolling off of Bobby from where the older man was making coffee, and Sam completely understood the feeling. Dean going off script was a scary thing; it was even scarier when there wasn’t an original script to begin with. They had _no_ idea where this was going, and Sam felt his heart pounding in his chest.

“So what’s the truth then, Dean?”

“Dad,” Dean said looking their father straight in the eye over the table, “I’m having a baby.”


End file.
